PRESENTED 


THE 


ti 


Perry  N.  Y,,  December  25,  1880. 


LEGENDS,  CUSTOMS 


AND 


SOCIAL 


OF  THE 


SENECA  INDIANS, 


OF 


WESTERN   NEW  YORK, 


JOHN  WENTWORTH  SANBORN, 

("  0-yo-ga-weh") 
(CLEAR  SKY.) 


1878. 


HOKTON  &  DEMING,   "ENTERPRISE"  PRINT, 

GOWANBA   NEW   YORK. 


LOAN  STACK 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1878,  by 

JOHN  WENTWORTH  SANBORN, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  Washington,  D.  C 


35, 


DEDICATION. 


TO 

JUDGE  WILLIAM  WOODBURY, 

OF  THE  CATTARAUGUS  BAH, 

a  companion  in  various  fishing  and  bunting  tramps,  among 
the  Allegheny  Mountains  and  over  the  Cattaraugus  hills, 
for  trout  and  partridge,  as  a  token  of  high  regard 
for  his  literary  taste  "and  attainments,  and  appre 
ciation  of  bis  distinguished  friendship,  this 
little  book  of  Indian  Life  and  Legends 
is   affectionately   dedicated,  by  the 
author. 

"O-YO-GA-WEH." 


INTRODUCTION 

That  picturesque  region — watered  by  the  swiftly  flowing  Cattaraugus, 
and  broken  by  precipitous  hills;  for  hundreds  of  years  the  favorite  hunting 
and  reclining  ground  of  the  Red  man;  where,  long,  long  ago,  the  deadly  ar 
row  pursued  its  last  flight;  where  instruments  of  rude  warfare,  the  tomahawk 
and  the  poisoned  barb,  are  now  supplanted  by  implements  of  peace  and  civil 
ization, the  plow,  the  drag,  the  flail;  where  the  scalping  knife  is  for  tjiese  years 
unknown,  and  the  snow-snake  and  the  target,  the  game  ot  cricket  and  of  ball 
occupy  the  thought  of  these  Indians  now  civilized — furnishes  a  charming  theme 
for  leisure  hour  contemplation.  Though  the  rudeness  of  by-gone  days  is  no 
where  discernible  among  these  civilized  and  somewhat  Christianized  Indians, 
they  have  a  nationality  peculiarly  their  own,  and  customs,  legends  and  social 
life,  wholly  different  from  those  of  every  other  people. 

Their  legends,  if  written,  would  fill  a  hundred  tomes;  transmitted  as  they 
are,  by  word  of  mouth,  crooned  out  at  social  councils  by  the  aged  to  the 
youth,  these  legends  lose  nothing,  but  gain  much;  for  Indian  minds,  like 
ponderous  ships,  though  hard  to  start,  sweep  on,  when  moved,  along  the  riv 
er  of  deep  thoughts.  They  tell  creation's  story  to  the  youth,  aad  all  these 
weird  tales,  just  as  Mother  Goose  is  retailed  to  admiring  infancy;  so  that  the 
Indian,  who  never  learned  these  tales,  no  matter  what  his  prowess  in  the  field 
of  letters,  or  in  fields  of  wheat,  is  only  half-developed,  just  as  the  child  of 
ours,  that  has  never  passed  a' course  in  Mother  Goose,  has  not  a  finished  edu 
cation. 

J.  W.  8, 


CHAPTER  I. 

CREATION. 

The  Indian,  like  every  sensible  mythologist,  begins  with 
Creation.  One  tribe  relates  how  the  first  inhabitants — and  all 
the  first  inhabitants  were  Indians — sprang  from  the  heart  of 
the  earth.  Another  tribe  has  a  different  notion,  depending,  as 
each  does,  upon  the  whim  of  its  own  story  tellers;  but  with  the 
royal  line  of  tribes — the  Senecas — creation's  story  runs  like 
this: 

In  the  great  past,  deep  waters  covered  all ;  indeed,  every 
thing  was  water.  Thousands  of  ducks,  large  and  small,  of 
every  varied  plumage,  sailed  upon  these  waters.  What  they 
subsisted  on  it  matters  not.  One  morning  when  the  sun  was 
shining  and  not  a  cloud  was  visible,  high  above  the  waters  ap 
peared  a  beautiful  woman.  Her  complexion  was  very  dark. 
She  was  falling  from  the  unexplored  and  boundless  ether.  The 
ducks  gathered  in  council,  and  resolved  to  meet  the  fair  crea 
ture  in  the  air,  and  break  the  force  of  her  dangerous  fall,  by 
the  substantial  prop  of  their  strong  wings.  So  they  rose,  and, 
pinion  overlapping  pinion,  gave  her  rest  upon  their  backs,  and 
sailed  with  their  precious  freight  to  the  bosom  of  the  placid 
sea  below.  But  she  must  be  fed,  and  how? 

The  bottom  was  a  great  way  down, and  if  you  in  your  skep 
ticism  ask,  how  could  one  reach  the  bottom  of  the  sea  if  every 
thing  were  water,  O-yo-ga-weh  will  reply,  '-This  is  the  legend, 
hear  it  through,  let  no  analysis  destroy  its  sentiment." 

The  bottom  must  be  reached,and  only  one  family  of  ducks 
great  brawny  fellows,  have  the  endurance  to  go  down  to  bring 
up  food;  for  they,  just  as  the  camel  takes  a  long  supply  of  wa 
ter,  breathe  enough  of  air  to  bear  them  through  an  hour's  jour- 


8 

neying.  So,  down  they  go,  and  for  long  days  and  many  moons 
care  for  their  protege. 

This  toil  becomes  a  burden,  and  they  hold  a  council,  and 
resolve  to  call  a  turtle  from  his  home  below,  and  start  the  nu 
cleus  of  an  earth.  The  turtle  obeyed  the  summons  of  the 
ducks;  his  rounding  shell  peeps  just  above  the  surface  and  on 
this  they  spread  a  muddy  something — which  the  scientists  call 
protoplasm — and  it  grows! 

For  several  days  the  new-made  earth  expands  until  it  is 
nearly  fifty  feet  around.  Twin  boys  are  given  at  length  to 
the  world's  great  mother,  and,  as  time  flies  by,  they  learn  to 
walk,  and  soon  they  find  the  outer  rim  of  their  earth-home, 
and  every  day  they  make  the  circuit  of  the  earth.  And  lo! 
each  day  they  find  the  circle  grown  much  larger  than  the  day 
before.  At  last  they  cannot  go  around  it  in  a  day,  and  they 
wander  on  and  on,  and  thus  the  Indian  gets  his  roving  dispo 
sition.  Now  the  earth,  unaided,  larger  and  larger  grows  un 
til  not  even  the  fleet-footed  runner  nor  the  speedy  horse,  can, 
from  sun  to  sun,  traverse  its  long  diameter. 

The  white  man  talks  of  earthquakes,  and  "foolishly  sur 
mises,"  so  the  legend  says,  "that  hot  and  cold  have  had  a  fall 
ing  out."  O-yo-ga-weh  hears  the  true  solution  from  the  In 
dian  oracle.  The  earth  never  quakes,  but,  when  the  turtle 
shifts  his  position,  weary  of  standing  on  one  foot,  he  jostles  the 
earth  upon  his  back,  that  is  all.  It  is  true  there  is  fire  but 
the  cause  is  this,  the  fires  that  the  Indian  Vulcan  blows,  fall 
off  the  forge,  and  the  waters  of  the  seas  get  intermixed  and 
flow  upon  the  forge,  and  Nature,  having  interdicted  their 
communion,  shows  her  displeasure  and  spits  forth  steamy  hiss 
es.  This  is  the  legend  of  the  Senecas. 

These  twin  boys,  so  the  legend  further  states,  were  not 
harmonious,  for  one  was  good,  the  other  very  bad;  one  was 
the  Lord,  the  other  the  Devil;  one  was  the  maker  of  all  good, 
the  other,  of  all  evil;  one  gave  those  herbs  and  fruits  which 
make  life  sweet,  the  other,  all  that's  poisonous;  one  made  the 
maize  to  grow,  the  other  sent  the  noxious  weed  and  thistle; 
the  one  tilled  the  soil,  the  other  scoured  the  woods  for  game; 


the  one  brought  for  the  family  supplies,  the  best  his  land 
would  yield,  the  other  dragged  in,  now  and  then,  an  old  tough 
meated  deer. 

Time  was  when  long  pine  cones,  hanging  like  ear-drops 
from  the  boughs,  were  fit  for  food,  and  yielded  a  delicious,  aro 
matic  honey  when  roasted  in  the  flames;  but  one  day  the  bad 
boy  had  a  fit  of  jealousy  and  threw  ashes  in  the  good  boy's 
face,  and  011  his  cones,  and  that  is  why  cones  are  jio  longer  fit 
to  eat  The  maize  itself  was  sweeter,  better  far  than  now,  un 
til  the  bad  boy  in  that  fit  of  jealousy,  dashing  ashes  on  the 
cones,  threw  some  on  the  maize.  He  did  not  spoil  the  maize 
for  the  good  boy  blew  the  ashes  off,  so  the  maize  still  lias  some 
goodness  left, . 

These  boys  grew  up,  and  with  their  growth  the  breach  of 
harmony  kept  widening,  until  the  Devil  sought  the  very  life  of 
the  good  boy,  whom  the  legend  calls  the  Lord.  The  Great 
Spirit  knew  all  this,  and  one  day  he  met  the  good  boy  in  the 
field  and  said,  "That  evil-minded  brother  is  plotting  against 
thy  life,  and,  when  you  meet  again,  lie  will  inquire  what  is 
the  surest  instrument  to  take  thy  life;  he  will  ask  this  on  pre 
tense  of  being  in  sport,  and  you  must  tell  him  that  if  he  stab 
you  with  bulrushes  you  will  die.  When  he  is  through  you 
ask  him  what  would  kill  him,  and  ./he  will  tell  you  honestly 
that  if  you  strike  him  with  the  deer's  horns,  which  go  floating 
in  the  air,  he  will  die.  After  this  he  will  change  his  manner 
towards  you  and  rush  after  you  with  bulrushes  in  his  hand, 
and  when  he  stabs— of  course  the  bulrushes  will  be  crushed, 
though  he  will  think  they  pierce  you— take  berries  from  the 
elder  bush  and  crush  them,  they  will  bleed,  and  he  will  follow 
you  to  see  you  fall  and  die. 

"  While  you  are  running  I  will  send  the  floating  deer's 
horns  from  the  sky,  and  you  must  turn  on  him."  Thus  it  tran 
spired.,  and  the  Devil,  seeking  to  kill  the  Lord,  was  himself  de 
stroyed,  and  then,  for  ages,  man  had  peace.  No  Indian  slew 
his  brother;  all  the  tribes  traded  together  and  were  kind;  the 
crops  were  more  abundant  than  ever  before;  the  Cattaraugus 
teemed  with  trout:  the  winters  were  mild  as  Spring;  the  deer 

2 


10 

came  into  camp,  and  brushed  the  wigwams  as  they  browsed; 
the  partridges  lighted  on  sleeping  Indians  and  drummed. 
The  woods  were  full  of  game. 

The  death  of  Ha-ne-go-ate-geh,  the  evil-minded,  removed 
all  evil  from  the  world,  and  every  tribe  was  happy.  A  great 
jubilee  was  held,  to  thank  Ha-wen-ne-yu,  (Great  Spirit)  for  giv 
ing  peace  and  plenty. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    DISPERSION    OF    THK    TRIBES    AND    THE    FIRST    DOCTOR. 

Hundreds  of  years  ago,  the  Indian  tribes  were  one  great 
family,  speaking  a  common  language,  occupying  that  part  of 
New  York  State  where  now  are  New  York  City  and  Brooklyn. 
There  was  no  such  thing  as  sickness  or  death  among  them. 

They  were  ruled  by  a  great  chief.  His  equal  was  never 
known.  He  could  see  into  all  the  future;  he  could  foretell  all 
that  was  in  store  for  the  Indians.  The  Hudson  was  their 
great  fishing  ground.  One  day  the  chief  gave  orders  that 
every  family  should  build  a  large  canoe;  that  they  were  about 
to  move  up  the  river  They  obeyed,  and  soon  the  river  was 
covered  with  canoes  from  bank  to  bank,  for  seventy  miles. 
The  chief  "paddled  his  own  canoe"  among  the  rest. 

When  they  had  gone  a  few  miles,  they  struck  another 
stream  at  their  right,  towards  the  east,  and  several  families  fol 
lowed  it.  The  main  body  murmured  at  this,  but  the  chief 
said,  "  Let  them  go,  they  will  become  a  race  by  themselves,  we 
will  give  them  a  name.  Let  them  be  called  Mohicans.  They 
shall  soon  have  a  language  of  their  own." 

The  great  body  moved  up  the  river,  and  when,  they 
reached  the  site  of  Albany,  they  held  a  council.  Some  con 
cluded  to  go  right  on,  and  so  they  did,  reaching  what  is  now 
St.  Regis,  and  to  this  clay  they  are  known  as  the  St.  Regis  In 
dians.  The  chief  said,  "  Let  them  go;  they  also  will  become  a 
great  nation.  It  is  the  will  of  the  Great  Spirit." 

All  the  rest  struck  the  Mohawk  river  in  their  journeyings 
arid  soon  they  swarmed  like  bees  again,  a  large  number  of 
them  choosing  to  dwell  along  the  fertile  valley  of  the  Mohawk. 
The  chief  said,  "  Let  them  go,  we  will  hereafter  know  them  by 


12 

the  name  of  Mohawks."  Next,the  great  army  reached  the  site 
of  Rome  and  the  chief  gave  orders,  "  Take  up  your  canoes; 
carry  them  over  these  hills  until  we  find  streams  and  lakes." 
What  is  now  Oneida  Lake  burst  upon  their  view;  along  its 
shores  hundreds  chose  to  dwell,  and  the  chief  addressed  the 
nations  in  council.  "  Let  them  remain,  they  will  not  roam 
far  away  from  us.  Let  them  he  called  Oneidas." 

Oswego  lake  was  reached  at  length;  another  company  re 
mained  and  the  chief  called  them  the  Onondagas.  The  next 
that  left,  he  called  Cayugas. 

For  long  weeks  they  traveled  without  reaching  a  spot  that 
lured  them  to  remain.  They  came  in  time  to  a  high  ridge, 
where  were  springs  and  singing  brooks  and  abundance  of  deer 
and  trout.  From  the  top  of  the  ridge,  away  to  the  westward, 
they  saw*  what  appeared  to  be  the  silvery  moon  reclining  on 
the  bosom  of  the  earth.  It  proved  to  be  what  is  now  called 
lake  Erie,  and  they  said,  "Ha-wen-ne-yu  has  stretched  out 
mighty  waters.  We  thank  Ha-wen-ne-yu.  Here  we  will 
dwell" — and  they  were  called  the  Senecas,  a  people  of  noblest 
sentiments  and  highest  honor.  The  Senecas  were  very  nu 
merous,  there  being  more  of  them  than  had  gone  from  the 
main  body  at  any  three  previous  departures.  "  My  children," 
said  the  great  chief,  "go  down  the  rushing  stream  and  make 
your  home  along  its  banks."  The  Senecas,  at  length,  split  in 
to  three  great  families,  one  family  remaining  along  the  shores 
and  banks  of  what  are  now  lake  Erie  and  Niagara;  another 
branch  going  on  until  steep  banks  like  precipices  stop  their 
march.  They  meet  in  council  and  resolve  to  build  canoes  and 
cross  the  boiling  Niagara.  They  finally  succeed,  and,  aban 
doning  their  canoes,  strike  into  the  dense  woods.  They  are 
known  as  the  Tuscaroras.  Another  family  went  to  the  south 
and  settled,  near  neighbors  to  the  Senecas,  known  as  the  Alle- 
ghanies.  To-day,  in  one  strong  bond  of  brotherhood,  are 
classed  Mohawks,  Oneidas,  Onondagas,  Cayugas  and  Senecas, 
comprising  the  "Five  Nations,"  famed  in  historv 

The  great  mass  moved  on  again  until  they  reached  a 
broad  stream,  the  present  Mississippi' — over  which  some  gen- 


13 

erous  being  had  stretched  a  bridge  of  two  giant  logs.  Half  of 
the  Indians  had  crossed,  and  while  the  bridge  was  yet  loaded 
heavily,  one  end  gave  way,  and,  swinging  back  by  the  force  of 
the  current  to  the  hither  bank,  the  great  company  was  split  in 
two.  They  thought  this  was  the  will  of  the  Great  Spirit.  The 
chief  cried  out  to  them  from  the  other  bank,  "  Make  that  your 
home,  we  go  not  very  far,  and  we  will  trade  with  you.  We 
seek  a  resting  place." 

They  on  the  hither  bank  were  Shawnees  and  Cherokees, 
and  they  with  whom  the  chief  continued  were  Dakotas. 

All  this  account  purports  to  be  a  trustworthy  record  of  the 
origin  and  dispersion  of  the  Indian  tribes.  'At  all  events  it 
is  in  actual  accord  with  the  position  of  the  tribes,  and  was  re 
lated  by  an  aged  man.  who  illustrated,  for  three  hours,  the 
course  of  the  tribes  by  means  of  his  broom-handle  cane.  But 
to  our  narrative: 

It  seems  that  for  many  days  and  weeks  the  old  chief  had 
determined  to  turn  medicine-man  that  the  Indians  might  die. 
They  were  increasing  so  fast  that  he  feared  the  brooks  and  riv 
ers  and  lakes  would  not  furnish  fish  to  keep  alive  so  many,  so 
out  of  pity  for  the  tribes  the  chief  became  a  medicine-man. 
Pushing  on  a  few  miles  farther,  the  great  chief  said,  "Now 
we  will  rest.  This  is  our  home.  Here  we  will  make  our  resi 
dence."  They  saw  that  something  hung  upon  his  mind;  they 
feared  that  something  very  bad  had  come  to  him,  and  they 
often  asked  him  what  it  was.  They  little  thought  he  meant 
to  be  a  doctor!  to  give  them  nauseous  medicines,  and  bleed 
them,  but  so  it  was.  At  last  he  called  his  people  to  him;  they 
sat  around  the  great  camp-fire.  He  spoke:  "I'll  tell  you 
what  it  is,  you  will  be  sick!  You  will  begin  to  die!  Do  not 
forget  the  words  of  your  great  chief.  When  a  man  dies,  put 
his  body  deep  down  in  the  ground;  put  his  head  to  the  setting 
sun,  his  feet  towards  the  gates  of  the  morning.  You  will  be 
sick,  all  of  you,  and  I  must  tell  you  what  to  do.  I  know  all 
kinds  of  herbs  for  medicines."  He  took  a  hundred,  more  or  less, 
of  thorns,and  stuck  them  in  the  ground,  each  thorn  standing  for 
a  certain  medicine;  and  he  showed  them  what  itwould  cure. 

4 


14 

He  said,  "  I  am  a  doctor  now,  and  you'll  be  sick.  Take 
close  pains  with  this  medicine,  for  you  will  see  persons  sick, 
and  death  will  come  upon  them.  Give  this  medicine  and 
sometimes,  if  you  give  it  right,  when  death  has  bitten  one  of 
you,  this  medicine  will  make  death  sick,  and  he  will  let  go 
and  leave  you  to  get  well.  In  future  moons  you  will  be  visit 
ed  by  a  people  whose  faces  are  faded  and  pale.  They  will  fall 
to  scalping  you.  Death  will  employ  them  to  kill  you  off. 

"  There  is  not  one  of  them  in  all  our  hunting  grounds,  but 
they  will  come  on  white  clouds.  You  will  not  understand 
their  language." 

Years  passed;  the  old  chief  was  taken  sick,  and  died.  His 
last  words  were,  "  After  I  am  dead,  and  you  have  buried  me, 
there  is  something  you  must  do;  something  I  have  not  told 
you  yet.  It  is  this,  I  want  you  all  to  cry,  and  make  a  mourn 
ful  sound,  and  make  it  loud.  That  shall  be  called  grief,  and 
you  must  then  go  to  our  brothers  on  the  other  bank  of  the 
stream,  and  cry  aloud,  Go-weh!  Go-weh!  Go-weh!  (Death  has 
come!  Death  has  come!  Death  has  come!  ) 

This  shall  be  your  mournful  signal,  and  it  shall  rout  out 
all  the  people.  Cry  with  them.  Let  the  tears  pour  to  the 
ground,  and  I  will  ask  Ha-wen-ne-yu  to  send  you  deer,  and 
bears,  and  porcupines." 

Just  so,  it  happened.  Thus  you  see  that  doctors  were,  be 
fore  man  knew  of  death  or  sickness! 


CHAPTER  III. 

SNOW   SNAKES   AND    CONSTELLATIONS. 

A  game  peculiar  to  the  Indian  and  full  of  excitement  is 
that  of  Snow-snake.  The  degree  of  perfection  to  which  the 
Indian  arrives  in  the  construction  of  Snow-snakes  is  wonder 
ful,  and  the  dexterity  displayed  in  shooting  them  is  marvel 
ous.  A  sapling  of  hickory,  black  walnut,  or,  more  often,  ma 
ple,  straight  as  an  arrow,  is  selected  of  the  proper  length,  say 
from  six  to  nine  feet,  at  one  end  fashioned  like  the  head  of  a 
snake,  at  the  other  end  thin  and  narrow.  The  head  is  made 
round  and  with  a  blunt  point,  which  is  usually  loaded  with 
sheet-lead.  These  Snow-snakes  are  shot  sometimes  on  the 
snow  crust  but  more  often  in  a  channel  made  through  the 
snow  by  dragging  along  a  small  log. 

The  Indian  places  his  fore  finger  against  the  end  of 
the  snake;  starts  back  a  rod  or  two,  makes  a  quick, 
short  run,  and  sends  the  Snow-snake  shooting  along  its  pre 
pared  track  with  almost  the  velocity  of  a  bullet.  The  Indians 
choose  sides  and  the  side  that  gains  the  larger  number  of 
points  is  victorious. 

It  is  not  uncommon  for  an  Indian  to  send  one  of  these 
Snow-snakes  a  fourth  of  a  mile.  Each  snake  bears  the  owner's 
private  mark  by  which  the  judges  are  enabled  to  decide  who 
are  victorious.  There  is  a  tradition  that  twelve  Indians,  six 
on  a  side,  were  playing  the  game  one  winter,  and  in  their  ex 
citement  they  did  not  notice  that  the  snake  of  one  of  them 
kept  on  without  stopping.  Every  tribe  has  its  great  runner, 
reputed  to  be  the \swiftest  of  all  runners  by  the  tribe  to  which 
he  belongs.  So  every  tribe  has  one  who  excels  all  others  with 


the  bow  and  arrows,  in  the  game  of  Snow-snake,  ball  or  jave 
lin  throwing. 

He,  whose  Snow-snake  had  gone  on,  was  the  giant  of  the 
tribe.  He  called  attention  to  the  flying  Snow-snake;  all 
looked.  It  had  risen  from  the  track  and  from  the  earth.  It 
seemed  to  have  taken  on  wings  of  lire.  It  soared  higher  and 
higher,  and  increased  in  size  as  it  rose.  At  length  it  took  its 
place  among  the  stars  and  has  since  been  known  as  the  Drag 
on  constellation. 

The  war  dance  commenced  with  young  Indian  boys.  A 
company  often  met  every  night  at  dusk;  and  at  the  end  of 
every  week  they  had  what  was  called  the  regular  dance  and  a 
feast.  Their  feast  was  rather  frugal,  consisting,  as.  it  did,  of 
boiled  corn  and  beans.  At  length  their  festivities  developed 
into  a  science.  One  of  their  number  who  was  a  sweet  singer 
seated  himself  on  the  top  of  a  heap  of  earth  and  made  vocal 
melody  for  the  nine  boys  who  beat  the  earth  down  to  a  rim- 
like  belt  around  the  mound.  They  must  have  a  better  feast; 
so  the  singer  made  out  the  bill  of  fare,  and,  as  impromptu  sup 
pers  are  secured  sometimes  by  jolly  college  mates,  so  to  eacli 
Indian  boy  was  allotted  the  task  of  furnishing  something  spe 
cial  for  the  feast.  One  was  to  get  a  kettle;  another — for  they 
seemed  bent  on  a  savory  soup — was  to  beg  a  bone;  another 
was  to  bring  the  bowls;  another  wooden  ladles;  another  was 
appointed  to  furnish  for  dessert,  a  dog;  another,  a  porcupine; 
another  was  to  pound  the  corn  for  thickening  the  soup;  an 
other — no  feast  could  be  complete  without  some  beans — • 
was  to  bring  long  black  beans,  a  favorite  dish  among  the  In 
dians.  A  day  of  meeting  was  appointed  when  all  were  to  re 
port  and  bring  their  contributions  to  the  feast. 

They  met,  but  brought  nothing.  The  old  folks  thought 
them  crazy  and  would  not  grant  their  wish. 

The  singer  sang;  the  boys  began  a  feastless  dance.  Their 
heads  and  hearts  grew  lighter  and  lighter  as  they  flew  about 
the  mound,  until  the  whole  company  whirled  off  into  the  air. 
The  mother  of  each  several  boy  seemed  then  for  the  first  time 
to  take  in  the  situation.  One  ran  with  a  kettle;  another,  with 


17 

a  bone;  another,  with  bowls;  another,  with  wooden  ladles;  an 
other  caught  up  the  white  dog;  another  dragged  along  a  por 
cupine;  another  took  pounded  corn,  and  another,  beans.  They 
all  cried  aloud  to  the  boys  in  the  air  hoping  to  call  them  back, 
but  it  was  forever  too  late.  The  boys  went  out  of  sight,  whirl 
ing  round  the  singer,  and  they  are  whirling  to  this  day.  The 
singer  became  the  planet  Saturn,  and  the  eight  boys  his 
moons. 

Before  the  boys  were  changed  to  moons  they  were  admon 
ished  by  the  singer  riot  to  cast  a  glance  below.  One  disobeyed 
and  lost  his  place  and  fell  with  lightning  speed  to  the  earth. 
Just  as  he  neared  the  ground  the  Great  Spirit  changed  him  to 
a  pine  tree  and  by  the  force  of  his  fall,  he  plunged  deep  into 
the  soil;  sent  out  great  roots  and  flourished. 

The  older  Indians  mourned  for  the  boys  and  danced 
every  year  where  they  had  beaten  down  the  earth  around  the 
mound. 

At  length  they  came  to  commemorate  all  remarkable 
events,  and  especially  success  in  war,  by  the  dance.  Dancing 
forms  the  principal  feature  of  the  religious  ceremonies  of  all 
the  tribes  and  consists  in  beating  the  earth  with  the  foot  as 
the  long  line  of  worshipers  moves  in  perfect  .time  around  a 
pole  or  other  central  object. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    MISFORTUNE    OF     HAVING    A    MOTHER-IN-LAW,  OR     INGRATI 
TUDE    PUNISHED. 

The  tribes  went  hunting  one  mild  winter,  wandering  long 
miles  from  the  old  wigwams.  A  bright  young  Indian  boy,  a 
favorite  in  the  tribe,  the  idol  of  his  father's  heart,  came  into 
camp  one  morning  and  found  his  mother  dying.  It  was  the 
first  grief  of  his  life,  and  though  she  went  to  dwell  in  happier 
hunting  grounds,  he,  whom  she  had  cared  for  all  his  life,  was 
left  to  mourn.  At  length  his  father  led  another  mother  to 
their  wigwam;  but  she  did  not  love  the  Indian  boy,  and 
wished  she  might  destroy  him,  for  she  thought  his  father  cared 
more  for  him  than  he  did  for  herself. 

One  day  the  men  were  hunting  deer,  and  the  new  mother 
asked  the  boy  to  help  her  gather  sticks  to  cook  the  evening 
meal.  She  said,  "  If  we  can  catch  a  porcupine  and  cook  him 
for  your  father's  supper,  he  will  praise  us  both.  I  know  where 
we  can  find  them.  We  will  go." 

The  heartless  mother  was  plotting  against  the  boy.  In 
her  prowling  through  the  forest  she  had  found  a  cave,  and  she 
planned  to  entice  the  boy  to  enter  it,  and  she  would  shut  him 
in.  "  But  how  could  the  cave's  mouth  be  stopped?  "  She 
found  a  flat,  heavy  stone,  and,  laboring  hard  for  hours,  rolled 
it  to  where  she  could,  with  little  labor,  tip  it  up  and  close  the 
cave.  So  she  deceived  the  boy  who  in  his  artlessness  went  in 
to  the  cave,  and,  he  once  in,  she  tugged  at  the  great  stone  and 
tipped  it  up,  and  closed  the  cave,  and  went  away.  He  saw  at 
last  what  she  had  done,  and  he  sat  down  on  the  cold  floor  of 
the  dingy  cave,  and  cried.  A  porcupine,  whose  home  was  in 


19 

the  cave,  came  to  him  in  an  old  woman's  form,  and  said,  "My 
grandson,  I  am  sorry  for  yon,  I  will  help  yon  if  I  can.  I  think 
I  can  tip  back  the  stone.  I  wish  to  do  it  for  this  is  iny  home 
and  that  the  entrance." 

She  tried  the  stone,  but  both  of  them  had  not  the  strength 
to  roll  it  down.  She  said,  "  You  sit  here  just  a  little  while; 
once  there  was  another  outlet,  but  I  have  not  used  it  now  for 
years  and  perhaps  I  cannot  get  out  that  way,  but  I  will  try." 

But  she  succeeded,  and,  calling  loudly  to  the  animals,  they 
all  assembled  to  inquire  her  wish.  She  told  them  of  her 
grandson  in  the  cave,  and  how  his  cruel  mother  treated  him. 
The  great  black  bear  was  seen  to  weep,  and  the  porcupine 
asked  him  to  pull  away  the  stone.  He  put  his  heavy  paws  up 
on  the  stone,  and  tugged  it  down.  The  porcupine  asked, 
'•Who  will  take  the  boy  and  bring  him  up,  and  make  him  a 
pleasant  home?  "  The  wolf  said,  "  I  will,"  but  the  grand-moth 
er  replied,  "  No,  I  cannot  consent  to  this;  if  you  get  hungry 
you  will,  I  fear,  eat  this  helpless  boy." 

The  stately  deer  spoke  next,  and  said,  "  T  will  be  glad  to 
train  and  bring  him  up." 

The  grandmother  made  answer  to  the  deer,  "  Yours  is  a 
noble  race,  but  the  boy  must  have  a  home;  you  lay  up  nothing 
for  the  winter,  I  cannot  let  you  have  him."  Then  the  bear, 
weeping  for  his  misfortunes,  said,  "  I  have  two  cubs,  but  I  can 
care  for  him.  I  will  lay  by  honey,  and  all  good  things,  and 
keep  him  well."  The  porcupine  replied,  "  I'm  willing  that  you 
have  him."  So  the  bear  took  from  a  pack  she  carried,  what 
appeared  to  be  a  cape,  and  this  she  put  upon  the  shoulders  of 
the  Indian  boy,  and  he  became  a  cub.  He  trotted  off  with 
his  new-made  mother,  carrying  his  pack  with  the  rest. 

Now  it  seems  that  the  old  bear  determined  to  make  good 
use  of  the  boy.  One  day  they  came  to  a  large  settlement  of 
bears  of  another  family,  and,  while  it  was  criminal  to  steal 
from  bears  of  their  own  kith  and  kin,  it  was  a  virtue  to  take 
from  bears  of  other  families.  This  settlement  of  bears  was 
very  large.  It  was  the  time  of  berries,  and  the  bears%  had  put  up 
sheds  of  peeled  hemlock  bark,  and  scattered  their  berries  on 


the  top  to  dry.  The  old  bear  said  to  the  boy, "  I  will  now  take 
off  your  cape  and  you  will  become  like  a  man  again,  and  you 
must  take  your  bows  and  arrows  and  sound  the  war-whoop  and 
run  among  these  bears,  and  they  will  flee  away,  and  we  can 
take  their  dried  berries,  and  be  provided  for  all  winter,"  So 
the  boy  struck  up  the  war-whoop,  and  the  bears,  unused  to 
such  melody,  seeing  the  strange  figure  fled  in  consternation, 
leaving  everything  behind.  The  old  bear  and  her  cubs 
filled  up  their  packs,  and  hurried  on.  Sometimes  they  were 
pursued  by  hunters,  but  the  bear  had  great  experience  and 
knew  how  to  evade  them.  She  had  three  ways  of  doing  it,  as 
follows:  On  the  approach  of  the  hunters,  she  hid  with  her 
cubs  in  a  hollow  tree,  and  when  the  dogs  came  up  she  threw 
out  a  partridge  feather  at  the  opening,  and  just  then  a  part 
ridge  would  fly  up,  (birds  and  beasts  were  in  league  with  each 
other),  and  the  dogs  would  be  drawn  away  from  the  tree. 
Again,  when  the  hunter  himself  pressed  close  upon  them  she 
would  push  out  from  their  hiding  place  a  long  pole.  With 
one  end  of  the  pole  she  would  touch  the  hunter's  head,  the 
other  end  resting  against  the  tree.  As  he  approached,  the  pole, 
which  he  did  not  perceive  to  touch  him,  would  swing  him 
away  from  their  hiding  place.  One  day  she  had  a  very  nar 
row  escape  and  was  compelled  to  resort  to  the  third  and  last 
means  of  protection.  She  had  concealed  herself  and  cubs  in  a 
hollow  and  the  dogs  came  to  the  tree  and  persisted  in  barking. 
The  hunter  hastened  to  the  tree;  just  as  he  came  near,  the 
bear  put  both  her  paws  up  at  the  opening,  and  the  soft  pads  of 
her  feet  looked  like  rotten  wood,  and  the  hunter  called  the 
dogs  away,  even  cuffing  them  for  wafting  precious  time  bark 
ing  at  rotten  wood. 

When  they  were  out  of  sight,  the  bear  took  her  paws  down 
and  ran  away  with  her  cubs  at  the  top  of  her  speed. 

They  lived  on  berries  and  fared  well.  Sometimes  they 
found  a  tree  filled  with  honey  and  they  always  managed  with 
the  help  of  the  boy  to  get  it  all.  If  the  bees  took  refuge  in  a 
hollow  they  could  not  reach,  the  Indian  boy  would  cut  the  tree 
down  with  his  tomahawk.  This  old  bear  became  a  terror  to 


21 

ail  other  bears  because  she  had  an  Indian  to  help  her.  Her 
power  and  ferocity  were  known  to  all  the  hunters  and  they 
sought  her  out.  One  day  she  told  the  boy  that  they  must 
part.  She  tied  a  band  of  red  leaves  about  his  neck  and  said, 
"  Wear  this  always,  arid  any  that  have  injured  you,  when  they 
see  this,  will  be  taken  sick  and  die." 

They  heard  the  baying  of  the  hounds  in  the  distance, 
and  the  bear  took  her  cubs  to  a  hollow  tree  and  said, 
"  When  the  hunter  comes,  I  will  go  out  first  and  he  will  shoot 
at  me,  but  I  will  deceive  him.  He  will  not  kill  me  nor  my 
two  cubs,  for  they  will  do  the  same  that  I  have  done.  The 
dogs  will  not  leave  the  tree,  but  will  bark  until  the  hunter 
finds  you."  She  said  moreover  to  the  boy,  "  Remember  when 
you  go  among  your  people  how  I  have  cared  for  you  when  you 
had  no  friend.  Now  promise  me  that  you  will  never  kill  one 
of  our  kind,  and  that  you  will  never  lead  other  hunters  to  our 
homes."  "  How  shall  I  know  your  homes  from  those  of  other 
bears?  "  asked  the  boy. 

She  said,  "  The  smoke  from  our  fires  will  curl  in  a  straight 
column  into  the  air,  but  the  smoke  of  the  fires  of  other  bears 
will  spread  out  when  it  rises.  You  may  kill  all  other  kinds 
but  promise  not  to  kill  any  of  ours." 

He  promised.  The  hunter  and  dogs  came  up  and  every 
thing  turned  out  as  the  bear  had  said. 

When  the  hunter  looked  down  the  hollow  tree  and  saw 
the  boy,  he  knew  him,  for  he  was  his  own  nephew.  He  lifted 
the  boy  from  the  cave  and  asked  him  why  he  deserted 
the  bear  to  her  fate.  "Had  you  shown  yourself  first 
I  would  not  have  shot  the  bear  and  her  two  cubs."  The  boy 
said,  "  It  is  all  right  uncle,  you  have  not  killed  the  bear  or  her 
cubs." 

The  boy  was  taken  home.  When  he  reached  his  father's 
wigwam,  there  was  one  person  very  sorry  to  see  him,  and  that 
was  his  step-mother,  who  put  him  in  the  cave  and  shut  him  in. 
When  she  saw  the  band  of  red  about  his  neck  she  was  taken 
very  sick  and  in  a  few  hours  died. 

The  Indian  boy  became  a  man,  and  married  a  beautiful 

G 


Indian  maiden.  She  loved  him  because  he  was  the  swiftest 
runner  in  the  tribe,  and  because  the  largest  bears  were  his 
strong  friends.  His  mother-in-law  seemed  to  think  he  mar 
ried  her  too  when  he  took  the  daughter,  for  she  moved  to  the 
wigwam  of  her  son-in-law  and  soon  became  offensive.  She 
was  always  teasing  him  for  bear's  meat,  and  he  kept  her  well 
supplied.  She  told  him  that  she  wanted  a  particular  kind, 
and  he  knew  it  was  the  very  kind  he  had  promised  never  to 
kill.  For  many  moons  he  refused  her  the  kind  she  wanted. 
He  would  go  into  the  woods  and  watch  the  smoke  curling  in 
straight  columns,  and  would  say,  "  I  will  not  take  the  life  of 
my  best  friends,  no,  not  even  to  please  my  mother-in-law." 
She  troubled  him  so  much  that,  at  last,  in  desperation  he  shot 
a  bear  that  belonged  to  the  family  of  his  benefactors. 

That  very  night  a  message  came  that  he  must  meet  the 
bears  forty  miles  away  at  daylight  four  days  hence.  He  pre 
pared  to  go.  The  messenger  told  him  that  he  would  run  a 
race,  and  that  perhaps  he  would  perish  for  his  ingratitude. 
He  felt  hard  towards  his  mother-in-law  who  had  betrayed  him 
into  trouble.  He  bade  his  people  farewell  and  set  out  for  the 
place  appointed.  He  reached  there  an  hour  before  dawn;  the 
bears  were  there  before  him.  The  running  course  was  marked 
out.  At  the  farther  end  a  hemlock  bristling  with  knots,  lay 
•across  the  course.  This,  the  runners  must  jump.  It  was 
told  the  Indian  that  he  must  run  with  four  bears,  four  sepa 
rate  races.  So  he  prepared.  He  tied  on  his  tomahawk.  The 
race  with  the  first  bear  began;  when  they  had  gone  halfway, 
the  Indian  raised  his  tomahawk,  and  buried  its  edge  in  the 
skull  of  the  competing  runner,  then  easily  jumped  the  tree, 
running  to  the  end  of  the  course.  The  second  bear  was  speed 
ier  than  the  first.  They  ran  together.  When  two-thirds  to 
the  end,  the  Indian  struck  the  second  down.  The  third  ap 
proaches — one  of  the  swiftest  runners  of  the  whole  family  of 
bears.  When  they  had  traversed  three-fourths  of  the  course, 
the  Indian  struck  him  down,  and  won  an  easy  victory. 

The  fourth  bear  was  the  swiftest  runner  of  all  bears.  The 
Indian  felt  his  heart  beat  quicker.  He  had  a  dread  of  run- 


ning  with  this  one.  If  he  succeeded  in  winning  the  race,  he 
would  become  the  Great  Chief;  but  if  he  failed  he  knew  the 
bears  would  tear  him  in  pieces,  for,  Judas-like  he  had  betrayed 
his  dearest  friend. 

The  race  began.  The  trees  were  full  of  birds,  and  all  the 
leaning  trees  were  loaded  down  with  bears.  The  whole  animal 
creation  had  assembled  to  witness  the  momentous  contest.  The 
crows  sat  in  the  most  honored  place,  and  gave  the  start.  The 
Indian  fixed  his  anxious  eye  upon  the  goal,  and  ran  with 
strange  phrenzy;  but  the  bear  kept  even  with  him,  step  in  step. 
He  tried  all  ways  to  get  ahead,  but  close  beside  him  ran  the 
bear.*  A  few  rods  only  of  the  course  remain,  and 
the  bear  is  just  ahead!  The  birds,  in  their  excitement,  darted 
from  the  limbs,  and  sailed  in  wild  confusion  over  the  runners. 
The  bears  growled  out  encouragement  to  their  runner,  and 
urged  him  on,  but  no  one  cheered  the  Indian;  he  saw  that  he 
was  being  distanced.  Visions  of  his  horrible  fate  awaiting 
him,  if  he  failed,  drove  him  almost  mad.  He  clinched  his 
tomahawk  and  leveled  a  blow  at  bruin's  head — but  missed, 
and  when  they  reached  the  knotty  hemlock,  the  bear  cleared 
it  at  a  bound,  but  the  Indian,  now  discouraged  and.  bewildered, 
stumbled  where  he  should  have  jumped,  and,  falling  heavily 
upon  a  knot,  was  pierced  to  the  heart;  and  thus  the  Great 
Spirit  punished  him  for  his  ingratitude. 


CHAPTER  V. 

DAXCES    AND    FESTIVALS. 

The  Indian  New  Year  begins  when  the  first  new  moon  in 
February  is  five  days  old.  It  is  .believed  by  the  Pagan  In 
dians  that  the  dance  is  a  divine  institution.  The  Indians  are 
a  religious  people.  The  dance  forms  one  of  their  chief  reli 
gious  ceremonies.  The  observance  of  their  six  regular  festi 
vals  is  scrupulously  kept  up.  The  Protestant  Indians  have  110 
part  in  these  dances  and  festivals,  regarding  them  as  Pagan 
rites.  Christianity  is  teaching  a  more  simple  and  satisfactory 
worship,  and  it  finds  favor  among  them  because  of  the  im 
provements  everywhere  following  in  its  wake.  But.  hardly 
an  Indian  can  be  found  that  does  not  venerate  the  Great  Spir 
it.  The  New -Year's  festival,  though  often  classed  as  the  last, 
we  shall  describe  at  the  head  of  the  list.  It  continues  seven 
days.  On  the  fifth  day  the  white  dog  is  burned.  Great  stress 
is  laid  011  the  confessing  of  their  sins.  The  dog  is  burned  as 
a  sacrifice,  and  in  the  smoke  of  the  burning  dog  their  sins  are 
borne  away. 

The  confessing  of  their  sins  is  done  by  the  job  and  is 
thought  by  them  to  avail  for  a  whole  twelve-month. 

The  commencement  of  the  New  Year's  jubilee  is  duly  an 
nounced  by  two  Indians,  said  to  be  "  keepers  of  the  faith,"  who 
formerly  dressed  in  bears'  skins  or  buffalo  robes;  these  gar 
ments  being  fastened  about  their  heads  with  wreaths  of  corn 
husks. 

They  usually  started  in  the  morning,  and  on  entering  a 
house,  one  of  them  made  the  following  address:  "  Listen,  list 
en,  listen: — The  ceremonies  which  Ha-wen-ne-yu,  (Great  Spir 
it,)  has  commanded  us  to  perform,  are  now  to  commence. 


25 

Prepare  your  houses.  Clear  away  the  rubbish.  Drive  out  all 
wild  animals.  We  wish  nothing  to  hinder  us  in  the  ceremo 
nies  soon  to  commence.  We  exhort  you  every  one  to  obey 
what  we  ask.  Should  any  of  your  friends  be  taken  sick  and 
die,  we  command  you  not  to  mourn  for  them,  nor  allow  any  of 
your  friends  to  do  so.  But  lay  the  body  aside,  and  enjoy  the 
ceremonies  with  us.  When  they  are  over  we  will  mourn  with 
you."  This  was  for  the  morning  visit.  In  the  afternoon  they 
returned  and  made  the  following  speech: — My  Nephews,  my 
Nephews,  my  Nephews;  we  now  announce  to  you  that  the 
New  Year's  ceremonies  have  commenced,  according  to  our  an 
cient  custom.  You  are  each  required  to  go  forth  and  partici 
pate  in  their  observance.  This  is  the  will  of  Ha-wen-ne-yu. 
Your  first  duty  will  be  to  stir  up  the  ashes  on  your  neighbors' 
hearths.  Then  thank  Ha-wen-ne-yu,  each  of  you,  for  the  re 
turn  of  this  season,  and  for  the  privilege  of  enjoying  their  fes 
tivities."  Then  they  sang.  Repeating  this  form  at  every  house 
concluded  the  ceremonies  of  the  first  day.  Preparation  was 
made  also  on  this  day  for  coming  days.  The  white  dog  was 
strangled.  It  was  contrary  to  their  religion  to  offer  a  sacrifice, 
a  single  bone  of  which  had  been  broken,  or  a  drop  of  blood, 
shed.  After  being  strangled  the  dog  is  spotted  with  red  paint 
or  decked  all  over  with  many-colored  ribbons.  In  this  plight 
he  is  suspended  from  a  pole  until  the  fifth  day,  when  he  is 
taken  down  and  burned. 

According  to  injunction  the  people  stir  the  ashes  on  their 
neighbors'  hearths  on  the  second  day  of  the  festival  with 
wooden  shovels,  and  sprinkling  a  portion  over  the  hearths, 
they  thank  Ha-wen-ne-yu  that  the  lives  of  the  dwellers  there 
are  spared,  and  that  they  themselves  are  alive  to  perform 
their  duties. 

On  the  third  and  fourth  days  the  dances  are  inaugurated. 
Some  dance  the  Feather  dance;  some  dance  the  War-dance, 
continuing  until  late  in  the  evening.  Just  after  dawn  on  the 
fifth  day  the  white  dog  is  laid  upon  an  altar  near  the  council- 
house  and  burned.  The  ceremony  of  burning  the  white  dog 
was  formerly  quite  imposing;  at  the  present  day  it  is  very 

7'' 


26 

much  simplified.  The  customs  of  the  whites  are  fast  obliter 
ating  the  ancient  landmarks  of  the  Indian  nations. 

The  address,  or  speech  as  the  Senecas  call  it,  is  eloquent 
and  impressive.  It  is  always  spoken  by  one  of  the  "keepers  of 
the  faith,"  now  called  the  Pagan  high  priest.  The  address  is 
very  ancient.  For  more  than  fifty  years  it  has  been  substantial 
ly  as  given  below.  The  writer  is  indebted  for  the  speech  to 
Rev.  Joseph  Turkey,  who  took  it  down  at  a  late  New  Year's 
festival.  The  u  keeper  of  the  faith"  first  invokes  Ha-wen-ne-yu 
asking  his  attention,  and  having  secured  it  as  he  thinks,  thus 
speaks: 

"Hail!  Hail!  Hail!  Open  your  ear  to  hear  what  thy 
people  have  to  say.  The  smoke  of  our  offering  now  bears  our 
words  to  thee.  Behold  thy  people  gathered  here.  See!  they 
have  come  here  to  celebrate  religious  customs  thou  hast  given 
us.  Kind  Father  look  down  upon  us.  Let  us  have  wisdom  to 
perform  faithfully  what  thou  hast  commanded.  Continue  to 
listen:  The  voice  of  all  thy  people  is  ascending  to  thee.  By 
thy  wisdom  help  thy  people  to  avoid  everything  which  would 
tempt  thy  people  to  change  their  ancient  faith.  Give  us  pow 
er  to  celebrate  with  our  strength,  and  faithfully,  the  religious 
ceremonies  given  to  us  by  thyself. 

"  Continue  to  listen:  May  the  keepers  of  the  faith  get  wis 
dom  from  thee  to  perform  thy  commands  aright.  Give  to  ail 
of  us  strength  to  perform  the  sacred  things  which  came  from 
thee.  We  give  thanks  to  thee  for  these  ceremonies.  We  give 
thanks  that  thou  has  preserved  the  ceremonies  as  they  have 
always  been.  Continue  to  listen:  We  give  thanks  to  thee 
that  the  lives  of  so  many  of  us,  thy  children,  are  spared  to 
share  in  the  duties  of  this  festival.  \Ve  give  thanks  to  our 
mother,  the  earth,  which  sustains  us.  We  give  thanks  to  thee 
that  thou  hast  caused  her  to  yield  her  fruits  in  such  abun 
dance.  Help  her  to  hold  back  nothing  in  the  year  to  come, 
that  all  may  have  abundance.  We  give  thanks  to  the  rivers 
and  streams,  running  in  their  courses  on  the  bosom  of  our 
mother,  the  earth.  We  give  thanks  to  all  the  herbs  arid  plants. 
We  thank  thee  that  thou  has  been  so  good  to  us  in  giving  to 


27 

the  plants  the  power  to  make  us  strong  and  healthy,  and  to 
cure  our  sickness  which  evil  spirits  have  cast  upon  us.  We 
thank  thee  for  the  great  harvest  we  have  had  in  the  past  year. 
We  give  thanks  to  the  bushes  and  trees,  which  keep  us  sup 
plied  with  berries  and  fruit.  We  are  glad  and  thankful  that 
thou  hast  blessed  them.  We  ask  that  they  may  not  refuse 
their  fruit  in  the  future. 

''We give  thanks  to  the  winds  which  drive  away  disease 
and  pestilence.  Thou  hast  ordered  it  so,  and  we  thank  thee. 
May  the  winds  always  give  this  blessing.  We  give 
thanks  to  our  grandfather  Heno,  (the  Thunderer,  a  god  of 
storms,)  for  sending  us  rains  to  give  us  water  arid  to  cheer  our 
plants.  May  Hvno  not  forget  us.  We  give  thanks  to  the  moon 
and  stars  for  sending  us  light  when  the  sun  has  lain  down  to 
rest.  We  thank  thee  that  thou  hast  so  wisely  provided  for  us, 
that  we  have  no  lack  of  light.  Let  this  good  gift  continue. 
We  give  thanks  to  the  sun  that  he  has  looked  with  kindly  eye 
upon  us;  we  give  thanks  to  thee  that  thy  wisdom  which  has  no 
bounds  has  made  the  sari  to  dispose  the  seasons,  to  give  heat 
and  cold  and  to  make  thy  people  comfortable.  May  we  have 
that  wisdom  which  shall  direct  us  to  truth.  Keep  us  from  all 
bad  ways  that  the  sun  may  never  be  ashamed  of  us  and  hide 
his  face  and  surround  us  with  darkness. 

"  We  give  thanks  to  the  Ilo-no-che-no-keh,  (ministering 
spirits.)  We  thank  thee  that  thou  hast  given  so  many  spirits 
to  help  us  be  good  and  happy. 

"  Last  of  all,  we  give  thanks  to  thee  our  Creator  and  Lord. 
In  thee  dwell  all  things;  we  know  thou  canst  do  no  evil;  ev 
erything  thou  doest  is  for  our  good  and  enjoyment.  Pity  thy 
people  if  they  disobey  thee.  Be  kind  to  us  as  to  our  fathers  in 
the  great  past.  Hear  our  words  as  the\^  ascend  to  thee;  may 
they  be  pleasing  to  thee,  our  Creator,  the  Preserver  and  Lord 
of  all  things  seen  and  unseen.  Na-lio"  (f  have  done,  used  at 
the  end  of  speeches. ) 

This  address  or  prayer  is  followed  by  dancing  and  other 
amusements,  and  by  the  feast.  On  the  following  day — the 
sixth — comes  the  Thanksgiving  dance.  The  seventh  and  last 


28 

day  of  the  ceremonies  is  occupied  with  games  and  the  perform 
ance  of  religous  rites  similar  to  the  foregoing,  and  thus  close 
their  worship  and  festivities. 

These  shadows  of  true  religion  are  not  without  their  in 
fluence  on  the  Indians,  and  groping  in  the  dark  as  they  have 
been  doing,  it  is  quite  surprising  that  such  fruits  as  peace,  hos 
pitality,  friendship,  brotherly  love,  reverence  of  the  Great 
Spirit,  are  characteristic  of  them,  but  this  is  the  fact.  These  civ 
ilized  Indians  are  hospitable;  they  will  sit  for  hours  convers 
ing  with  their  guests,  and  studying  their  pleasure.  The  In 
dian  is  strong  in  his  likes  and  dislikes,  but  true  to  his  clan 
and  tribe. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HOW    HE    AVENGED    AN    INJURY. 

Away  back  in  the  dim  past,  when  Buffalo  with  the  sur 
rounding  country  was  a  wilderness,  there  was  planted  on  the 
shores  of  Lake  Erie  a  broad  settlement  of  Indians.  Among' 
their  most  formidable  enemies  were  the  Illinois.  One  winter 
a  band  of  Illinois  warriors  set  out  for  this  settlement  of  the 
Seiiecas.  They  traveled  days  and  weeks  and,  at  length  one 
day  before  the  dawn  burst  upon  the  villagers.  The  Senecas 
made  stout  resistance.  A  score  of  their  number  were  slain. 
A  youth  of  fifteen  and  a  woman  of  middle  age  were  taken  cap 
tives.  The  warriors  set  out  for  their  own  hunting  grounds 
and  wigwams,  taking  the  well-known  trail.  The  first  night 
on  the  journey  was  a  night  of  restlessness  to  the  youth  and 
woman.  Their  feet  were  sore  with  the  hard  day's  tramp.  The 
warriors  built  a  roaring  fire,  and  sat  in  solemn  council  around 
it.  They  called  out  the  boy  and  said  to  him  in  their  own  lan 
guage,  which  he  understood,  "  You  are  our  captive;  we  ask  you 
to  join  us  in  the  war-song,  and  enjoy  yourself  all  you  can.  We 
shall  not  harm  you."  The  warriors  reviewed  the  scenes  of  the 
day,  then  sang  their  war-song,  but  the  boy  pretended  not  to 
know  their  language,  and  he  knew  they  were  wholly  ignorant 
of  his.  He  did  not  sing  their  war-song,  but  made  motions 
asking  if  he  might  sing  in  his  own  language.  They  gave  con 
sent,  and  this  was  what  he  sang:  "  I  shall  never  forget  what 
you  have  done  to  my  people.  I  shall  repay  your  tribe  for 
this.  You  have  stolen  a  helpless  wonan  and  a  little  boy  from 
their  people  and  their  home.  I  shall  never  forget  it.  If  I  am 
spared  you  will  all  lose  your  scalps."  He  sang  so  earnestly 
8 


that  ttey  were  pleased,  thinking  that  he  would  soon  become 
one  of  mem,  and  never  think  of  his  own  people.  The  third 
day  of  their  journey  was  too'  hard  for  the  poor  woman;  she  be 
gan  to  faint.  The  warriors  halted,  and  while  they  held  a 
council  on  her  case,  she  told  the  Indian  boy  that  they  would 
kill  her.  So  she  said  to  him,  "  Avenge  my  blood,  and  when 
you  go  back  to  our  people  tell  them  how  the  cruel  Illinois 
have  beaten  me,  and  taken  my  life;  and,  promise  me  that  you 
will  never  cease  to  be  a  Seneca."  He  promised  all  she  asked, 
and  when  the  council  ended,  she,  poor  creature,  was  slain  with 
a  battle-axe  and  left  behind. 

They  hastened  on,  arriving  at  length  at  the  immediate 
suburb  of  their  own  village  early  in  the  evening.  They  held 
a  council  and  resolved  not  to  enter  until  the  next  morning. 
So,  early  the  next  day,  two  runners  were  sent  ahead  to  an 
nounce  the  coining  of  the  warriors.  The  people  gathered  to 
greet  them.  With  their  wildest  yell  the  warriors  rushed  into 
the  village,  and,  gathering  all  the  people  around  the  great 
council-fire,  rehearsed  with  inflammable  eloquence  the  exploits 
of  the  march. 

So  excited  were  the  people  at  the  recital,  that  they  seized 
clubs  and  beat  the  earth  with  wild  phrenzy  as  if  slaying  the 
hated  Senecas..  When  the  excitement  subsided  they  bethought 
them  of  the  captive  boy,  and  it  was  with  great  difficulty  that 
the  warriors  restrained  them  from  killing  him  outright, 

All  assembled  in  council  again  and  the  warriors  har 
angued  them,  and  said,  "  Now  let  us  plan  what  torture  this  boy 
shall  suffer;  as  our  dogs,  before  they  take  the  life  of  the  young 
bear  which  they  have  caught,  make  sport  with  him,  so  let  us 
do  with  this  captive,  and  if  he  lives  through  all  the  tortures  he 
shall  become  an  Illinois.  Our  tribe  is  full  of  braves  and  if  this 
boy  can  bear  our  punishment  let  him  become  an  Illinois."  A 
general  grunt  gave  sanction  to  this  opinion. 

The  night  before,  the  boy  had  had  a  dream,  in  which,  it 
seems,  was  revealed  to  him  all  that  the  Illinois  would  inflict 
upon  him. 


31 

The  council-fire  was  now  a  mass  of  glowing  coals.  The 
Indians  took  the  captive  boy  and  placed  him,  bare-footed  on  the 
coals.  The  soles  of  his  feet  became  one  mass  of  blister.  Then 
an  aged  warrior,  with  a  needle  made  of  slender  fish-bone, 
pierced  the  sufferer's  heels,  and  filled  the  blisters  with  sharp 
gravel  stones.  "  You  must  now  run  a  race  of  twenty  rods," 
they  said. 

It  was  revealed  to  him  in  the  dream  how  he  might  know 
whether  they  would  spare  his  life,  and  this  was  the  revelation: 
"  Running  the  race  he  would  enter  the  Long  House,  and,  if  he 
could  get  a  seat  on  a  wild  cat's  skin,  he  would  be  spared." 

The  Indians  stationed  themselves  in  two  rows  from  the  be 
ginning  to  the  end  of  the  running  course,  the  captive  to  run 
between  the  rows.  Each  Indian  was  armed  with  a  club,  a 
branch  of  thorn-tree,  or  a  bunch  of  briers,  and  it  was  allowed 
them  all  to  strike  him,  as  he  ran,  upon  the  back.  No  one 
should  beat  him  from  the  front.  The  captive  awaited  in  aw 
ful  agony,  the  signal  for  the  start,  and  when  it  was  given,  he 
asked  if  he  might  sing  his  war-song.  They  consented,  and 
this  is  what  he  sang,  "I  shall  never  forget  this  cruelty;  if  I 
am  spared,  you  will  lose  your  scalps."  While  singing  this  he 
forgot  his  tortured  feet;  the  pain  had  left  him,  and  his  courage 
came  again.  Turning  slowly  about,  he  gazed  for  an  instant 
on  the  rows  of  savage  warriors,  then,  bounding  like  a  deer  pur 
sued  by  the  hounds,  he  sprang  into  the  course  and  shot  with 
an  arrow's  speed,  so  swift  of  foot,  that  he  reached  the  end  of 
the  course  and  not  an  Indian  had  hit  him.  He  rushed  into 
the  Long  House  and  found  it  crowded,  but  at  length  he  espied 
a  place  on  which  to  sit;  it  was  a  log  covered  with  a  wild  cat's 
skin,  but  an  Indian  sat  upon  the  skin,  and,  glad  of  a  slender 
chance  of  life,  he  sat  upon  the  wild  cat's  tail,  and  when  the  In 
dian  moved  he  crowded  up  and  gained  a  larger  piece.  It 
happened  that  'in  old  Indian  and  his  wife  had  had  a  captive 
boy  whom  they  adopted  as  their  son,  but  he  had  died. 

The  chief  said,  "  If  this  boy  is  trained  he  will  make  a  brave 
Illinios,  and,"  he  continued,  "  the  old  man  who  trained  the 
other  bov  would  take  this  one  if  he  were  back  among  us;  but 


32 

he  has  gone  on  a  long  trail,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  we  should 
kill  this  boy." 

Long  hours  of  solemn  council  followed.  All  thought  the 
boy  had  borne  the  tortures  well  and  that  he  was  of  good  stuff 
and  would  make  a  brave  warrior.  Many,  therefore,  said,  "We 
should  spare  his  life,  he  will  join  us  and  forget  the  Senecas." 
The  most  said,  "  No,  he  has  not  seen  tests  enough  and  we  think 
he  can  bear  no  more  and  are  in  favor  of  taking  his  life."  It 
was  decreed  that  in  three  days  he  should  be  burned  at  the 
stake. 

The  day  arrived;  the  circle  of  pine  knots  was  fired,  and  the 
boy  was  tied  with  thongs  to  a  post  planted  in  the  center  of  the 
circle.  The  warriors  applied  the  gleaming  pitch  knots  to  the  an 
kles  of  the  boy.  Just  then  the  old  man  who  had  trained  the 
other  Indian  captive  came  near,  returning  from  his  march  in 
the  forest.  When  the  boy  saw  him  draw  his  seal  ping-knife  he 
thought,  "  The  old  man  pities  me,  and  will  now  end  my  mis 
ery,"  but  it  was  done  in  a  way  the  boy  did  not  expect,  for  the 
Indian  cut  the  thongs  which  bound  him  and  set  him  free.  He 
then  addressed  the  warriors  and  gained  his  point,  for  he  had 
great  authority  among  them,  saying,  "I  will  take  the  captive. 
His  eye  is  bright.  He  will  make  a  mighty  warrior.  I  will  try 
him  with  our  last  tortures  and  then  will  take  him  to  my  wig 
wam."  He  led  the  sufferer  to  a  spring,  and,  as  if  the  boy  had 
shown  too  little  proof  of  stuff  fit  for  an  Illinois,  he  told  the  boy 
to  get  down  and  drink.  When  he  did  this  the  old  man 
pushed  him  under  and  nearly  strangled  him.  This  was  re 
peated  thrice,  until  the  boy  was  too  exhausted  to  stand,  but  he 
was  alive.  Thus  he  had  stood  the  tests  and  the  Indian  took 
him  home,  dressed  his  blistered  feet  and  he  was  called-an  Ill 
inois.  They  little  thought  how  deep  the  tortures  burned  ha 
tred  into  his  heart. 

He  grew  to  be  a  man.  A  chief  gave  him  his  daughter  for 
his  wife.  They  thought  he  had  forgotten  their  tortures.  But 
there  rankled  in  his  heart  the  fresh  remembrance  of  his 
wrongs,  arid  wrongs  no  Indian  forgets.  He  fell  in  with  all 
the  customs  of  his  tribe  and  seemed  a  loval  man.  The  warriors 


33 

went  on  predatory  exploits  every  year,  but  Sa-geh-jo-wa  kept 
at  home,  and  on  their  return  led  the  triumphal  marches  of 
the  warriors  through  the  village. 

He  gained  the  esteem  and  admiration  of  the  tribe,  for  he 
was  never  equaled  as  a  hunter,  and  the  feats  of  strength  which 
he  performed  were  something  marvelous. 

At  length,  when  he  had  been  among  them  nearly  fifteen 
years,  he  asked  to  go  with  them,  especially,  as  he  heard  the 
leaders  talk  of  going  against  the  Senecas.  They  were  delight 
ed,  as  he  described  in  passionate  language  how  he  would  fight 
and  gain  more  scalps  than  all  the  rest.  The  warriors  not  on 
ly  consented  to  his  going,  but  applauded  him  for  loyalty  and 
for  his  willingness  to  fight  the  Senecas.  They  little  thought 
his  boast  of  getting  scalps  would  be  fulfilled  on  them.  But 
we  shall  see. 

All  the  warriors  of  the  tribe,  both  old  and  young,  sprang 
to  their  feet  rejoicing  at  his  words.  They  put  him  at  their 
head  and  he  led  the  way  for  many  days  until  at  daybreak  one 
fair  morning  they  saw  the  smoke  rising  from  the  wigwams  of 
the  Senecas.  Here  was  the  boyhood  home  of  Sa-geh-jo-wa  at 
the  time  of  his  capture  by  the  Illinois.  A  halt  was  ordered. 
The  wily  leader  said,  "Send  out  two  warriors  to  a  sugar  camp 
four  miles  ahead  and  let  them  scout  around  the  sugar-bush, 
and  bring  back  a  report  of  what  they've  seen,  and  we  will  burn 
the  wigwams  and  scalp  the  settlers."  The  warriors  were  se 
lected;  they  went,  but  came  back  with  the  news  that  the  su 
gar-bush  was  deserted.  So  he  described  to  them  another  set 
tlement.  They  went  again  but  brought  the  same  intelligence. 
They  had  seen  no  sign  of  life,  only  it  appeared  that  the  Sene-' 
cas  had  been  there  not  very  long  before.  There  were  heaps  of 
ashes,  but  every  camp  fire  had  gone  out. 

The  warriors  sat  in  council.  Their  leader  spoke,  "  To 
morrow  send  me  and  another,  and  we  will  bring  report  of 
something  better."  A  grunt  of  assent  was  his  commission  to 
do  what  he  thought  good.  Next  morning  the  two  set  out; 
when  they  had  gone  five  miles  or  more,  Sa-geh-jo-wa,  the  lead- 

9 


34 

er,  said  to  his  companion,  "  We  will  take  different  ways,  and 
I  arn  sure  we  will  strike  an  Indian  trail.  You  go  over  that 
ridge  of  hills  and  down  the  long  valley  and  meet  me  on  the 
brow  of  that  high  mountain,  three  miles  towards  the  setting 
sun,  and  I  will  make  a  circuit  through  the  valley  on  the  other 
side."  His  companion  set  out  as  directed,  while  Sa-geh-jo-wa 
turned  in  an' opposite  direction  towards  a  clearing  where  he 
thought  were  Senecas.  He  ran  along  the  valley,  entered  the 
clearing,  found  one  family  of  Indians  whom  he  knew,  and  they 
knew  him.  He  gave  his  message  in  few  words,  hurriedly 
whispered,  "  A.  band  of  hated  Illinois  is  in  the  little  valley.  I'll 
lead  the  warriors  in  to-morrow  noon.  Go  to  the  wigwams  of 
the  Senecas.  fire  the  warriors  of  the  tribe  and  let  them  come 
out  in  full  force.  Tell  them  to  come  early,  and  hide  along 
the  ridge  above  the  valley.  I  will  be  known  to  them  by  a 
white  heron's  feather  on  my  crest,  and  I  will  stumble  in  the 
bush  and  fall;  let  this  be  the  signal  for  the  Senecas.  Be  quick! 
Tell  the  Senecas  Sa-geh-jo-wa  is  true! " 

He  hastened  to  the  spot  agreed  upon  as  the  meeting  place 
with  his  companion,  arriving  there  a  few  moments  before  the 
other  warrior,  Both  reported  nothing  seen  and  hastened  back 
to  the  warriors.  "  Now,"  said  Sa-geh-jo-wa,  "let  us  descend  up 
on  the  village.  I  know  a  valley  where  no  Indian  hides.  I 
know  these  hills;  I  have  chased  the  deer  among  these  valleys. 
We  will  follow  the  narrow  way  through  the  hidden  valley 
and  enter  the  village.  See!  there  rises  the  smoke  from  the 
great  camp  fire  of  the  Senecas.  Warriors,  to-morrow  I  shall 
.take  three  hundred  scalps.  First  appoint  a  guide,  your  brav 
est  warrior,  to  go  with  me,  and  we  will  go  ahead.  Appoint 
two  others  also,  to  come  behind,  to  follow  at  a  distance.  Let 
us  be  guarded."  So  it  was  ordered,  for  all  admired  his  skill  at 
planning.  They  settled  down  for  the  night.  The  warriors 
started  in  their  sleep,  as  in  their  dreams  they  saw  long  strings 
of  scalps. 

Day  dawned,  and  every  Indian  made  ready,  proud  of  the 
opportunity  of  making  good  the  boast  of  Sa-geh-jo-wa  that 
three  hundred  scalps  should  be  the  trophy  of  that  day.  All, 


35 

but  their  leader,  little  thought  that  five  hundred  Senecas,  the 
bravest  of  the  brave,  were  in  the  valley  just  after  dawn,  but  so 
it  was. 

They  began  the  march.  At  noon  they  entered  the  valley 
and  the  leader  cast  his  eye  about  to  know  if  all  were  ready;  if 
his  orders  to  the  Senecas  were  obeyed.  With  much  delight 
he  espied  a  face  among  the  bushes  just  above  him  on  the  ridge, 
and  he  knew  the  Senecas  were  ready.  He  led  his  followers 
far  down  into  the  valley,  and,  making  a  misstep,  he  fell.  At 
that  instant  the  war-whoop  echoed  and  re-echoed  among  the 
hills.  Springing  to  his  feet  he  slew  the  warrior  at  his  side  and 
turned  to  help  the  Senecas. 

The  Illinois  were  slain,  all  but  the  two  who  guarded  the 
rear;  they  fled. 

Three  hundred  warriors  fell!  Wild  with  delight  at  seeing 
again  their  brother  and  crippling  the  haughty  Illinois,  they 
hastened  to  the  village.  The  shout  of  victory  called  out*  the 
people.  Three  hundred  scalps  were  glory  enough  for  Sa-geh- 
jo-wa.  A  great  jubilee  was  held;  it  lasted  far  into  the  night, 
and  the  victor  told  of  his  life  among  their  cruel  enemies. 
Pointing  to  the  pole  whence  dangled  the  scalps,  ghastly  in  the 
murky  and  fitful  glare  of  the  dying  camp  fire,  Sa-geh-jo-wa 
rehearsed  the  black  deeds  of  the  Illinois.  He  had  avenged  the 
tortures  he  had  suffered,  and  the  blood  of  the  poor  woman 
who  fainted  by  the  way. 

Sa-geh-jo-wa  lived  and  died  among  the  Senecas,  and, 
when  they  bore  him  to  his  narrow  grave  they  placed  beside 
him  a  four-fold  supply  of  bows  and  arrows,  tomahawks  and 
spears,  for  use  in  the  happy  hunting  grounds.  To  this  day  his 
name  is  honored. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MARRIAGES    AND    BURIALS. 

It  has  been  asserted  by  more  than  one  historian  that  love 
is  unknown  among  the  Seneca  Indians.  So  gross  a  misrepre 
sentation  should  never  have  been  published.  Whatever  ap 
parent  lack  of  the  tender  passion  may  have  been  detected  is 
due  to  match-making.  It  is  true  that  in  years  gone  by  the  In 
dian  lads  and  lasses  haven't  had  a  ghost  of  a  chance  to  fall  ef 
fectually  in  love,  for,  supposing  them  to  have  exchanged  glanc 
es  arid  two  hearts  to  have  begun  sweetly  to  beat  as  one,  their 
mammas,  as  the  youth  learn  to  their  sorrow,  have  planned 
differently,  and,  since  this  business  of  match-making,  peculiar 
to  (Indian)  women,  is  wholly  monopolized  by  the  squaws 
whose  sons  and  daughters  are  marriageable,  what  encourage 
ment,  we  ask,  have  the  young  Indians,  to  fall  in  love?  Many 
a  time  have  these  mothers  entered  into  negotiations  for  their 
children  without  their  knowledge,  they  having  110  intimation 
of  what  is  going  on,  until,  like  a  thunder-clap  from  a  cloudless 
sky,  the  announcement  is  solemnly  made  to  them  that  they 
are  married! 

A  celebrated  writer  has  said,  "When  an  old  man  marries 
a  young  woman,  it  is  man's  work;  when  a  young  man  marries 
a  young  woman,  it  is  the  Lord's  work;  but  when  a  young  man 
marries  an  old  woman,  it  is  the  devil's  work."  It  appears  that 
anciently  the  officious  squaws,  having  an  eye  to  the  correct 
and  thorough  discipline  of  young  warriors,  married  the  latter 
with  painful  uniformity  to  women  several  years  their  seniors, 
all  which  undoubtedly  affords  a  solution  of  the  mystery  as  to 
where  the  warriors  acquired  such  skill  and  bravery  in  fighting. 
It  was  no  mean  discipline  they  learned! 


37 

The  passion  of  love  was  not  unknown,  but  smothered. 
What  would  be  the  use  of  falling  in  love  when  custom,  rigid, 
exacting  custom,  coupled  with  the  certainty  of  disownment  if 
not  obedient,  held  the  youth  in  check  with  iron  grasp. 

The  influence  of  modern  society  has  reached  the  Senecas, 
though  the  custom  of  match-making,  so  rare  among  the  pale 
faces!  has  by  no  means  died  out  among  them.  The  principle 
that  actuates  the  Indian  mother  is  a  good  one.  She  soliloqui 
zes:  "My  son  is  of  the  proper  age  to  marry;  I  will  cast  about 
for  a  companion."  Every  marriage  lessens  crime,  and  the  In 
dian  has  some  honor. 

In  these  days  great  improvement  has  been  effected  in 
match-making.  Although  the  young  Indian's  partner  is  se 
lected  for  him,  he  is  allowed  to  fall  in  love  with  her  before  the 
final  ceremony  is  performed.  This,  it  will  be  noticed,  is  a 
long  step  forward.  One  feature  of  Indian  match-making  res 
cued  the  system  from  all  reproach,  and  if,  by  legislation  or 
otherwise,  it  could  become  an  unavoidable  accompaniment  of1 
match-making  everywhere,  it  would  be  well.  The  redeeming 
feature  is  this:  The  parties  who  made  the  match  were  held 
responsible  for  all  discord  or  quarreling  between  the  pair!  but 
if  harmony  could  not  be  restored  they  separated. 

Modern  divorce  laws  have  done  nothing  towards  perpetu 
ating  sacred  regard  for  marriage  vows  among  the  Indians  and 
often  on  merest  pretense  the  Indian  breaks  the  marriage  tie. 
The  writer  was  appealed  to  on  one  occasion  by  the  most  sor 
rowful  looking  Indian  he  ever  saw,  and  the  following  conver- 
srtion  ensued:  "  Had  bad  luck  with  my  squaw;  she  bad 
squaw,  I  get  you  to  help  me.  1  get  a  divorce.  You  give  me 
one."  "No,"  was  the  reply,"!  cannot  do  that."  "Church 
folks  give  divorce  then;  bad  squaw."  "No,  church  cannot  do 
it."  He  went  away  deeply  sighing. 

Investigation  disclosed  that  he  had  been  drunk  on  fire 
water  and,  attempting  to  abuse  his  companion,  she  had  sound 
ly  thrashed  him. 

Polygamy  is  not  practised  by  the  Indians.  Notwithstand 
ing  the  level  of  moral  tone  among  the  tribes  is  far  below  what 

10 


38 

it  is  among  the  whites,  an  Indian  who  attempts  to  take  two 
wives  is  stigmatised  by  the  tribe,  and  his  influence  goes  for 
nought  thereafter.  "  Too  much  squaw"  has  wrought  the 
downfall  of  more  than  one  influential  Indian. 

Separation  by  mutual  consent  is  allowed  and  regarded 
sometimes  as  just.  The  abuses  of  this  license,  however,  are 
numerous  as  are  the  whims  and  pretenses  of  a  disaffected 
Indian.  There  is  need,  in  order  to  the  permanent  improve 
ment  of  the  Senecas,  that  certain  disabilities  be  removed. 
Treated,  as  they  now  are  by  the  law,  as  children,  not  held  re 
sponsible  for  their  word  nor  bound  by  any  legal  obligation  to 
pay  their  debts,  it  is  little  wonder  that  marriage  among 
them  has  sunk  below  its  divine  level,  for,  standing  in  the  rela 
tion  of  minors,  with  all  the  legal  disabilities  of  children,  every 
sacred  obligation  suffers. 

There  are  those  who  live  happily  together  with  many  com 
forts  of  home  about  them. 

A  wedding  among  them  is  a  very  romantic  affair.  The 
writer  performed  the  marriage  ceremony  for  two  Indian  coup 
les;  the  first  was  repeatedly  postponed,  once,  because  a  neigh 
bor  happened  in  just  at  the  appointed  hour.  This  neighbor 
had  not  been  invited  and  the  ceremonies  were  brought  to  a 
stand-still;  again  the  wedding  was  postponed  because  the 
young  lady  was  suffering  from  a  cold.  After  about  three 
months,  everything  was  propitious;  the  sign  of  the  Zodiac  was 
in  the  heart.  Nothing  could  be  more  favorable.  If  it  were  in 
the  head  the  woman  would  be  sure  to  talk  too  much,  if  in  her 
feet,  to  run  too  much,  but  being  in  the  heart  she  would  take 
good  care  of  her  house  and  love  her  husband.  The  company 
assembled  at  the  house  of  a  neighbor.  They  sang  a  hymn. 
Inquiring  for  the  parties  to  be  joined,  to  the  surprise  of  the  of 
ficiating  clergyman,  a  young  man  was  pointed  out  who  sat 
with  chair  tipped  back  against  the  wall  and  feet  aloft  resting 
on  the  top  of  the  high  stove  a  most  indifferent  looking  object. 
The  bride,  a  bright  young  girl  of  seventeen,  came  tripping  in 
from  another  room  where  she  had  been  engaged  up  to  the 
last  moment,  in  preparation  for  the  meal  to  follow.  A  signi- 


39 

ficant  grunt  stirred  up  the  young  man  and  he  took  his  place. 
The  ceremony  was  performed  through  an  Indian  interpreter. 
Congratulations  followed.  The  older  Indians  present  took  oc 
casion  to  give  the  groom  the  benefit  of  their  experience,  ad 
monishing  him  to  profit  by  it. 

The  other  ceremony  was  performed  in  January,  1878,  and 
was  a  fine  affair.  The  groom  was  the  son  of  one  of  the  lead 
ing  chiefs  of  the  tribe,and  the  bride  was  of  no  mean  family.  Ex 
tensive  preparations  had  been  made  by  the  groom's  father,  at 
whose  house  was  the  gathering.  A  hymn  was  sung  in  Seneca. 
We  give  one  stanza: 

Jat  gat  huh    he  ni  sho  gwa    wih, 

Neh    no  nen    nyah    si  yu 
Sha  dih  ni  go  ant,  sho,  na  eh, 
Neh    no  nah    gao  yah     geh. 

A  large  company  had  gathered.  The  bride  and  groom 
were  neatly  dressed.  During  the  ceremony  there  were  many 
tears  shed,  for  the  Indians  seemed  fully  to  appreciate  the  scene. 
There  was  much  sympathetic  joy.  After  the  congratulations 
half  a  score  of  the  men  and  women  took  the  young  Indian  by 
the  hand,  and,  in  turn,  gave  such  advice  as  they  thought  fit. 
Not  one  word  of  advice  was  offered  the  bride!  but  upon  the 
groom  it  fell  in  great  profusion. 

One  old  man,  a  Pagan,  made  this  speech:  "  You  have  tak 
en  this  woman  for  your  wife.  She  leaves  her  mother,  her 
father,  her  sisters,  her  brothers  and  her  friends  to  be  your  wife. 
Do  not  forget  to  love  her.  As  she  has  left  everything  for  you, 
be  kind  to  her.  Do  not  forget  these  words.  The  Great  Spirit 
looks  down  and  hears  what  you  have  promised.  Remember 
that  the  Great  Spirit  can  see  everything  and  if  you  are  not 
true,  He  will  know  it.  Love  her  who  is  now  made  your  wife. 
Always  remember  these  my  words." 

The  feast  followed.  A  long  table  was  tastily  spread;  the 
food  placed  upon  it  was  well-cooked  and  clean.  It  was  a 
chicken-supper,  with  sauce,  and  bread,  and  pie,  and  corn-bread. 
What  did  it  matter  that  no  butter  graced  the  board?  Is  it  not 
the  latest  freak  of  etiquette  among  pale-faces  even,  to  eat  one 
meal  without  it? 


40 

BURIALS. 

It  has  ever  been  a  part  of  the  religious  faith  of  the  Sene- 
cas  to  venerate  the  dead.  Before  the  light  of  civilization  broke 
in  upon  the  sombre  solitude  of  the  forest,  the  tribes  performed 
services  for  the  dead  in  their  own  peculiar  and  elaborate  way. 

In  these  days  their  burial  customs  are  quite  like  those  of 
the  whites,  but  an  Indian  is  an  Indian  always  and  many  little 
details  of  burial,  suited  to  their  tastes,  will  never  be  given  up. 
No  bodies  are  olaced  on  bark  platforms  as  formerly;  no  skele- 
swing  among  the  branches.  No  family  skeletons  are  preserved 
to  be  mourned  over  for  long  years  as  was  their  wont  not  many 
years  ago.  Tomahawks,  bows,  arrows,  spears  and  javelins  are 
no  longer  laid  beside  the  dead,  but  the  old  custom  of  wailing, 
speech-making  and  singing  of  mournful  hymns  is  common  to 
this  day. 

A.  funeral  ceremony  as  conducted  by  the  Senecas  is  touch 
ing  and  beautiful.  A  youug  man,  sixteen  years  old,  was  bur 
ied  from  the  Mission  House.  He  had  been  a  great  sufferer  for 
months,  and  his  suffering  seemed  the  more  to  have  endeared 
him  to  his  mother's  heart.  The  Senecas  had  gathered  slowly 
in;  deep  solemnity  characterized  the  service.  There  were 
bowed  heads  and  wet  cheeks  in  that  assembly.  After  the  usu 
al  form  of  Scripture  reading  and  prayer,  a  native  preacher 
arose  and  addressed  the  people  a  half-hour.  The  Senecas  do 
not  move  past  the  coffin  in  procession,  but,  here  and  there  one 
rises  in  the  audience  and  goes  forward  to  view  the  remains, 
then  passes  out.  Much  time  is  consumed  in  this  way.  When 
all  who  wish  have  looked  upon  the  dead,  the  family  go  for 
ward.  The  grief  of  the  mother  on  this  occasion  was  deep  and 
terrible.  Her  frame  quivered,  and  anon  a  heart-piercing  wail 
of  anguish  broke  forth.  Amid  her  tears  and  sobbing  she  ad 
dressed  a  few  words  of  eulogy  to  her  son  to  the  effect  that  he 
had  been  a  kind,  a  loving  son,  who,  unexpectedly  had  gone  on 
a  long  journey  a  little  before  her;  that  they  would  meet  again 
never  to  part.  She  passed  out  hiding  her  tears  and  grief  with 
the  blanket  which  she  wore  tightly  drawn  over  her  head. 
Then  the  bearers  performed  their  service,  and,  as  the  sorrow- 


41 

ing  procession  moved  down  the  aisle,  a  mournful  chant  was 
sung  by  a  score  or  more  of  Senecas,  and  the  remains  were  borne 
away  to  the  grave. 

On  the  Sunday  following  an  Indian  arose  in  the  congre 
gation  and  said,  "  Our  mourning  neighbors  have  great  grief. 
They  wish  to  pay  their  funeral  expenses.  Let  us  share  the 
load  they  are  carrying.  It  seems  to  me  that  we  ought  to  help 
them;  we  can  help  them  and  lift  this  burden  from  their  shoul 
ders;  their  grief  is  burden  enough."  The  collection  was  taken 
and  the  full  amount  raised.  Only  the  Great  Spirit  knows  how 
much  of  heaven's  blessing  shall  be  portioned  out  to  these  sym 
pathetic  souls. 

On  another  funeral  occasion  the  tender  regard  of  a  sorrow- 
stricken  father  for  the  memory  of  liis  wife  brought  tears  to 
many  an  eye.  The  funeral  was  at  a  school  house  on  the  reser 
vation.  It  seems  that  the  Indian's  wife  had  died  a  few  months 
before  leaving  a  little  girl.  The  mother  had  bequeathed  her 
all — consisting  of  a  ring  and  a  few  dresses  and  some  unimpor 
tant  articles — to  the  little  daughter.  Now  the  father  is  called 
to  lay  away  the  only  one  of  all  his  family,  and  he  is  in  the 
world  alone. 

The  services  concluded,  an  Indian,  whose  duty  it  was  to 
make  announcements,  arose  and  said:  "  This  father  now  lays 
away  his  child.  His  wife  he  buried  a  number  of  months  ago. 
When  she  died  she  left  a  few  things  for  her  child;  but  the 
child  too  is  dead.  The  father  is  poor  and  often  sick.  It 
would  be  right,  according  to  our  custom  for  the  father  to  sell 
the  ring  and  dresses  and  get  money  to  pay  the  funeral  expens 
es,  and  he  is  poor  and  sick,  but  lie  asks  me  to  announce  that 
he  will  try  and  bear  the  funeral  expenses;  he  does  not  like  to 
sell  the  things  that  belonged  to  his  wife.  He  asks  me  to  say 
these  things!" 

The  father  was  the  only  mourner.  He  gazed  long  and 
eagerly  upon  his  child,  and  when  the  bearers,  singing  the 
mournful  chant,  lifted  the  little  coffin  and  bore  their  charge  to 
the  grave,  the  flood-gates  opened  and  the  father  bowed  him 
self  and  wept  long  and  bitterly. 

11 


Let  it  not  be  said  that  affection  is  wanting  in  the  Indian 
character.  The  Indian  has  been  treated  as  a  brute,  a  dog. 
We  have  known  him  on  the  war-path,  not  at  his  fireside.  He 
may  be  defrauded,  crushed,  but  he  has  the  instincts  of  a  man. 
To  educate  and  Christianize  him  is  more  politic  than  to  at 
tempt  annihilation. 

Custom  was  years  ago  -to  leave  a  slight  opening  to  the 
grave  that  the  spirit  might  revisit  the  body  and  find  easy  ac 
cess  to  its  former  place.  The  custom  of  feasting  after  a  stated 
period  of  mourning,  undoubtedly  arose  from  the  commonly 
prevailing  idea  that  the  journey  to  heaven  required  many 
days,  and  until  the  spirit  reached  the  happier  realms  there 
should  be  mourning  on  earth;  but  on  the  completion  of  the 
journey  it  was  thought  not  only  proper  but  a  matter  of  duty 
to  feast  and  rejoice. 

The  Indians  believe  that  there  is  a  path  to  heaven  from 
every  man's  door,  but  that  he  may  turn  away  from  it  and  fall 
among  bad  spirits. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

DOMESTIC    LIFE    AND    HOSPITALITY. 

What  can  sound  more  strange  to  the  general  public  than 
an  invitation  to  gather  at  the  fireside  of  the  Senecas?  to  inspect 
their  home  life?  As  usually  understood  the  Senecas  are 
thought  to  be  wanting  in  those  social  elements  indispensable 
to  happy  homes.  They  are  thought  to  be  always  roving  and 
never  stable.  The  indolence,  and  natural  aversion  of  the  In 
dian  to  work,  his  nomadic  habits  have  been  rehearsed  to  the 
world  and  exaggerated.  As  there  is  a  redeeming  side  to  the 
picture  let  it  be  held  to  public  gaze,  and  public  censure  may  be 
restrained  if  commendation  be  not  elicited  for  this  peculiar 
people.  The  true  inwardness  of  Seneca  social  life  can  be  un 
derstood  by  no  mere  observation  of  a  day.  One  has  need  to 
dwell  among  the  people,  to  sit  at  their  tables,  to  mingle  in 
their  neighborhood  councils,  to  study  their  modes  of  thought, 
to  watch  the  little  details  of  every-day  life,  ere  competent  to 
give  a  fair  representation  of  their  higher  characteristics. 

The  romance  of  the  wigwam  is  a  thing  of  the  past,  the  In 
dians  now  living,  many  of  them,  in  respectable  style  in  good 
houses.  The  larger  number  of  their  dwellings,  however,  are  a 
cross  between  a  wigwam  and  a  house,  evolving  a  log  hut  with 
two  or  three  rooms,  unplastered,  unpapered  and  unadorned, 
excepting  now  and  then  a  flaming  circus  poster  peeled  from 
some  fence.  The  Seneca  has  a  weakness  for  bright  colors,  but 
displays  remarkable  taste  in  the  intermingling  of  them. 


44 

Contact  with  the  pale-faces  has  worn  off  the  angularities 
of  savage  life,  so  that  now  many  a  modern  custom  is  ingrafted 
on  this  hardy  stock.  Not  all  the  polished  ways  of  civilization 
find  genial  soil  in  Indian  traits.  The  humanity  of  father  Ad 
am  is  somewhat  chronic  among  the  Indians  and,  like  every 
other  follower  of  fashion,  the  Seneca  has  little  difficulty  in  fall 
ing  into  the  pernicious  ways  of  the  white  race,  and,  to  the 
shame  of  the  latter,  let  it  be  whispered,  there  are  greater  at 
tempts  to  corrupt  and  ruin  the  Senecas  than  to  elevate  and 
save  them.  Where  is  the  decency,  not  to  mention  the  justice, 
of  trading  whiskey,  beer  and  cider,  as  many  do,  for  the  Indian's 
corn,  oats  and  wheat,  driving  him  to  desperation,  inflaming 
his  savage  nature,  letting  loose  the  wolves  of  want  and  wretch 
edness  to  invade  and  destroy  his  home!  Who  shall  measure 
the  accumulations  of  "  wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath"  for 
those  who,  in  total  disregard  of  the  enforced  inferiority  inci 
dent  to  the  minority  and  dependence  of  the  Indian  race,  give 
the  fire-water  and  take  the  substantial  profits  of  the  Indian's 
land? 

Noble  social  traits  are  displayed  by  the  Senecas.  Ap 
proach  the  door  of  the  hut  or  more  refined  dwelling  and  a 
voice  within  says  "come."  You  are  greeted  with  smiles.  You 
are  struck  with  the  entire  absence  of  airs  and  feel  at 
home  at  once.  If  the  head  of  the  household  can  speak  the 
English,  you  are  treated  to  long,  minute,  accurate  accounts  of 
the  exploits  of  the  tribe  in  the  olden  time.  Having  no  written 
language  only  as  the  sounds  of  the  language  are  represented 
by  English  letters  with  marks  of  accentuation,  memory  is  king, 
and,  having  abundant  leisure,  the  Indian  rehearses  over  and 
over  again  all  that  ever  he  knew.  His  peculiar  idiom  is  nov 
el  and  charming,  and  you  unconsciously  fall  into  a  sort  of 
dream-land  reverie  as  the  narrator  pours  forth  a  stream  of 
discourse  fresh  and  sparkling  as  the  spring-fed  brooklet  that 
babbles  past  his  door.  In  the  progress  of  the  narrative  neigh 
bors  drop  in  and  they  listen  with  strict  attention,  at  times, 
suggesting  little  details  and  variations  passed  over  by  the  sto 
ry-teller.  The  afternoon  flies  by  and  you  rouse  to  the  realities 


45 

of  hunger.  It  may  be  that  a  large  kettle  of  hulled  corn  sim 
mers  over  the  fire  and  its  savory  incense  gives  edge  to  your 
appetite  for  the  rich  light  biscuit  which  the  Indian  matron 
takes  piping  hot  from  the  oven.  You  are  a  welcome  guest  at 
the  table  of  the  Indian,  but  you  eat  alone.  You  must  bear  in 
mind  that  the  bounty  spread  is  for  all  the  family  and  you 
must  not  clear  the  board.  Tis  true  there  is  no  lack  but  eti 
quette  demands  consideration  on  your  part.  You  wonder  at 
this  strange  custom,  and  the  matron  says,  "  You  visitor;  we 
have  you  eat  first;  you  help  yourself;  we  glad  you  come;  we 
give  you  best  we  have." 

Not  unfrequently  a  considerable  number  gather  in  before 
you  finish  and  you  can  hardly  tell  whether  your  supper,  or  the 
earnest,  pleasant  chatting  absorbs  you  most.  You  may  not 
understand  their  words  but  the  beaming  smiles  and  the  hearty 
laughter  and  animated  conversation  warm  your  heart  and 
draw  you  nearer  to  these  dusky  children  of  the  forest.  If  you 
pass  the  night  under  the  Indian's  roof  you  may  be  sure  of  pro 
tection.  No  bolts  or  bars  are  on  the  doors,  for  they  are  open 
to  the  people  of  their  tribe  and  to  the  stranger,  day  and  night. 

The  Indian  eats  when  he  is  hungry.  It  is  only  now  and 
then  that  the  family  eat  at  regular  intervals  or  together. 

Food  is  set  before,  no  matter  how  many,  strangers  and  it 
is  always  expected  of  them  that  the  usual  "Hi-ne-a-weh,"  I 
thank  you,  will  be  said. 

A  favorite  cake  among  the  Senecas  is  made  as  follows: — 
A  quantity  of  coarse  meal  is  boiled  in  water  until  thoroughly 
cooked.  Just  before  taken  off,  long  black  beans  previously 
boiled  until  soft,  are  stirred  in.  The  whole  mass  is  poured 
while  hot  into  a  large  tin  pan  and  left  to  cool.  When  cool 
this  cake  is  cut  with  a  knife  in  slices  and  eaten  with  butter 
freely  spread  on.  The  beans  present  the  appearance  of  fruit 
and  detract  not  at  all  from  the  wholesomeness  of  the  cake.  This 
cake  is  given  freely  to  the  children,  and  it  has  this  recommen 
dation  that  it  never  yet  distressed  any  one.  It  is  by  no  means 
unpalatable  as  the  writer  well  knows.  The  long  beans  at  the 
bottom  of  the  cake  you  take  to  be  raisins,  but  a  surprise  awaits 

12 


46 

you.  You  bite  the  cake  and  the  surprise  is  that  no  taste  of 
raisins  is  realized,  and  the  Senecas  laugh  at  your  puzzled  looks 
and  tell  you  it  is  bean-corn-cake. 

One  writer,  many  years  ago,  speaking  of  the  generosity  of 
the  Indian,  said,  "  He  would  surrender  his  dinner  to  feed  the 
hungry,  vacate  his  bed  to  refresh  the  wear)7,  and  give  up  his 
apparel  to  cloth  the  naked.  No  test  of  friendship  is  too  severe, 
no  sacrifice  to  repay  a  favor,  too  great,  no  fidelity  to  an  agree 
ment,  too  inflexible  for  the  Indian  character."  It  is  an  esti 
mate  of  Indian  traits  as  just  to-day  as  when  uttered,  and  what 
return  has  the  Indian  had?  A  cutting  criticism  but  fairly 
made,  was  that  of  the  old  chief  on  the  treatment  of  the  Indian 
at  the  hands  of  the  whites,  when  he  said  to  a  guest,  "  You 
know  our  practice.  If  a  white  man,  in  traveling  through  our 
country,  enters  one  of  our  cabins,  we  all  treat  him  as  I  do  you. 
We  dry  him  if  he  is  wet,  we  warm  him  if  he  is  cold,  and  give 
him  meat  and  drink  that  he  may  allay  his  hunger  and  thirst, 
and  we  spread  soft  furs  for  him  to  rest  and  sleep  on.  We  ask 
nothing  in  return.  But  if  I  go  into  a  white  man's  house,  and 
ask  for  victuals  and  drink,  they  say  '  Where  is  your  money?' 
And  if  I  have  none,  they  say,  '  Get  out  you  Indian  dog.'  ' 

There  is  much  truth  in  reports  of  the  indolence  of  the  In 
dian  men;  they  are  not  over-fond  of  labor,  but  many  of  them 
are  diligent  workers  and  have  accumulated  some  property. 
Efforts  one  may  put  forth  to  help  the  Indian  to  the  practice  of 
diligence  are  not  always  appreciated  as  the  following  will  show: 
One  day  in  May  the  writer  was  making  calls  upon  the  Indians 
and  observed  three  young  men  of  about  twenty-five  years, 
plowing,  or,  to  be  more  exact,  the  Indians  lay  in  the  shade  of 
an  apple-tree  and  the  plow  slept  in  the  furrow,  and  the  horses 
stood  nodding.  Returning  an  hour  after  there  was  no  change 
of  base.  The  thought  occurred,  "  Here  is  a  chance  to  give 
those  lazy  fellows  a  lesson  they  will  not  forget."  So  hitching 
the  horse,  he  jumped  the  rail  fence,  took  the  reins,  started  the 
team  and  finished  plowing  the  piece,  then  turning  to  the  ag- 
gravatingly  indifferent  three  as  they  lay,  like  Tityrus  of  whom 
Virgil  has  sung,  "reclining  beneath  the  branches  of  a  wide- 


47 

spread  tree,"  the  following  advice  was  volunteered:  "Boys, 
if  you  want  to  get  on  in  this  world  you  must  not  spend  much 
time  in  the  shade,"  and  the  Indians  delighted  that  the  job 
was  finished,  cried  out  to  know  "  if  the  missionary  would  not 
be  kind  enough  to  unhitch  the  team."  He  did  unhitch  his 
own  and  drive  off  at  a  high  rate  of  speed,  reflecting  deeply  011 
the  doctrine  of  total  depravity. 

In  all  his  dealings  with  his  own  people,  or  others,  the  In 
dian  is  not  guilty  of  theft.  He  has  too  high  a  sense  of  honor 
and  too  great  self-respect  to  steal.  Theft  is  a  crime  almost  un 
heard  of  among  the  Senecas.  Let  an  Indian  get  drunk  on 
the  white  man's  fire-water  and  even  then  steal,  and  public  in 
dignation  known  no  bounds. 

Nor  is  the  Indian  a  liar.  Notwithstanding  somewhat  of 
degeneration  from  primitive  truthfulness,  the  Senecas  compare 
favorably  in  this  respect,  with  most  in  their  vicinit}T.  Lying 
and  dissimulation  are  riot  Indian  traits.  In  fact/if  an  Indian 
attempts  one  or  the  other  he  uses  the  English  language.  He 
cannot  use  double  speaking  in  his  own  language,  it  will  not 
admit  of  it.  It  is  a  remarkably  direct  and  simple  language  as 
will  be  shown  in  the  chapter  on  the  Seneca  language. 

The  neighboring  whites  have  some  trouble  in  trading 
with  the  Indians,  and  complain  bitterly  that  they  do  not  keep 
their  word  and  pay  as  they  agree,  when  trusted  for  goods.  The 
reason  is  obvious;  the  disability  of  minority  is  upon  the  trib.es 
and  they  need  not  pay  unless  they  choose,  because  the  white 
man  has  no  right  to  trust  the  Indian  and  cannot  forcibly  col 
lect  his  debt. 

A  Christian  Indian  had  owed  a  debt  for  a  long  time;  after 
being  dunned  until  he  lost  his  patience  he  paid  the  debt,  re 
minding  the  trader  that  he  was  "mean  man"  and  "  Indian 
needn't  pay  if  he  don't  want  to,  but  I  pay  you,  I  Christian,  I 
pay.  You  mean  man." 

In  the  matter  of  holding  property,  the  women  are  as  inde 
pendent  of  their  own  husbands  as  two  men  could  be  of  each 
other  among  us.  If  they  separated  the  woman  took  all  her 
property  with  her.  On  the  death  of  the  wife  all  her  effects  go 


48 

to  her  children.  As  formerly  the  children  were  none  of  them 
members  of  the  same  tribe  with  the  father,  so  at  the  present 
time  no  Indian  and  his  wife  belong  to  the  same  clan,  and  the 
children  by  birth  are  of  the  mother's  clan. 

In  olden  time  the  Indian  might  give  his  property  to  his 
wife  and  children,  but  failing  to  do  this  the  next  of  kin  in  his 
own  tribe  were  rightful  heirs.  The  handling  of  property  is 
left  with  the  Indian  Nation  and  the  disposition  of  it  is  reg 
ulated  by  the  councils. 

The  Indians  have  fashions  in  dress  peculiarly  their  own. 
They  are  always  in  style  for  they  frave  but  one  style.  The 
majority  of  the  woman  wear  bright  shawls  or  blankets  thrown 
over  the  head  and  drawn  about  the  face.  This  is  their  custom 
summer  and  winter.  They  wear  leggins  of  navy  blue  broad 
cloth  embroidered  with  beads,  and  a  skirt  of  the  same  mate 
rial,  the  list  being  left  on  as  an  ornamental  stripe,  and  over 
all  a  polonaise  of  bright  calico.  Another  article  of  apparel, 
worn  by  most  of  the  women,  is  the  over-dress.  It  is  made  with 
the  straight  yoke  and  is  gathered  on  to  the  yoke  full,  hanging 
loosely.  It  has  a  broad  collar  which  is  fastened  at  the  throat 
with  a  silver  clasp.  This  over-dress  is  made  of  calico. 

Not  unfrequently  the  squaws  wear  a  long  strip  of  broad 
cloth  over  their  heads  as  a  shawl.  Only  a  few  wear  hats  and 
dress  in  modern,  American  style. 

Making  maple  sugar  and  sugaring-off  are  useful  and  fa 
vorite  pastimes  among  the  Senecas,  and  contribute  much  to 
social  joy. 

From  earliest  recollection  corn  has  been  the  staple  arti 
cle  of  food.  When  properly  prepared  it  affords  hearty  and  nu 
tritious  diet.  Red  corn,  white,  and  flint  corn  are  the  varities. 
The  white  corn  is  the  favorite  kind,  supplying  the  place  of 
wheat.  It  is  very  white.  The  Indian  women  put  it  into  mor 
tars  which  are  two  feet  high  and  with  a  pounder  four  feet  long- 
reduce  the  corn  to  meal  as  fine  as  they  wish. 

The  moccason  as  made  by  the  Senecas  is  ingeniously  con 
trived  and  easy  to  the  foot.  Soft  buckskin  is  the  material 
mostly  used.  Some  are  high  like  a  boot;  others,  low  like  a 


49 

slipper  with  a  narrow  lapel  turned  down  from  the  top  em 
broidered  with  beads. 

Trays  and  sap  tubs  made  of  bark  are  in  common  use. 
The  Indian  still  raises  tobacco,  but  smokes  sumac  leaves  with 
it  to  reduce  its  strength.  Chewing  is  a  habit  copied  from  the 
white  man. 

An  Indian  saddle  is  of  curious  contrivance  but  an 
swers  well  its  purpose.  It  consists  of  a  frame  of  wood 
covered  with  raw-hide.  The  side  pieces  are  long.  The  pom 
mel  rises  five  or  six  inches  above  these  on  the  front  of  the 
saddle.  An  opening  of  about  three  inches  is  left  for  the  back 
bone  of  the  horse  at  the  top  of  the  saddle  between  the  side- 
pieces.  The  stirrups  are  also  of  wood  bent  into  the  form  of  a 
triangle. 

The  snow-shoe  is  much  used  in  winter.  A  strip  of 
hickory  is  bent,  the  front  rounding,  and  the  two  ends  fastened 
together  at  the  heel.  Coarse  network  of  thongs  of  green-hide 
completes  the  shoe. 

A  contrivance  sometimes  used  by  the  Senecas  for  igniting 
tinder  is  worthy  of  description.  A  rod  four  feet  long  is  passed 
through  a  small,  heavy  wheel  which  is  keyed  to  the  rod  or 
shaft.  A  notch  like  that  at  the  end  of  an  arrow  is  made  at  the 
top  of  the  shaft.  A  bow  is  hung  by  its  string  upon  this  shaft. 
The  string  being  loose  you  swing  the  bow  around  a  few  turns 
and  then  press  down  upon  it;  the  shaft  will  begin  to  turn  as 
the  string  uncoils  and  the  wheel  will  give  momentum.  The 
harder  you  press  on  the  bow  the  faster  will  the  shaft  revolve 
until  the  friction  at  the  base  will  produce  fire. 

The  Indian  women  excel  in  basket  making.  The  mate 
rial  used  is  ash,  rushes  and  corn  husks. 

Wooden  sap  ladles  and  bowls  are  often  handsomely  carved 
and  are  really  beautiful.  Wooden  butter  dishes,  butter  stamps 
of  their  own  make  and  carving,  and  other  home-made  house 
hold  utensels  are  common  among  the  Senecas. 

War-clubs  and  tomahawks  are  no  longer  used  by  these  do 
mesticated  Indians,  therefore  a  description  of  them  would 
hardly  be  in  place  here.  Now  and  then  one  of  the  fathers  of 

13 


50 

the  tribe  will  take  down  an  old  tomahawk  and  tell  its  history; 
in  what  skirmishes  with  the  whites  it  was  used  when  the  bad 
spirits  of  the  Indian  nature  were  aroused;  how  it  was  carried 
on  the  long  trails  by  some  distinguished  warrior.  But  the 
spirit  of  war  has  left  the  Seneca  and  the  dove  of  peace  now 
hovers  over  the  tribe.  This  little  nation  of  seventeen  hundred 
Senecas,  at  peace  with  other  tribes,  and  in  harmony  at  home, 
is  a  delightful  study,  whether  contemplated  from  the  stand 
point  of  its  legends,  customs,  or  social  life. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

LEGENDS. 

In  legendary  lore  the  Seneca  goes  back  to  first  causes,  ex 
plaining,  with  a  minuteness  quite  remarkable,  all  striking 
phenomena  in  nature.  Is  there  a  valley  or  mountain  at  all 
peculiar?  Is  the  undulation  of  the  surface  anywhere  peculiar 
ly  striking?  The  Seneca  tells  the  reason  of  such  peculiarity, 
suffering  no  marked  feature  of  land  or  sky  to  pass  unexplained. 
The  scientist  says  that  the  long  cut  from  Niagara's  cataract  to 
lake  Ontario  was  eaten  out  by  frost  and  falling  waters,  but  the 
Indian  who  roamed  the  forest  years  before  the  scientist  was 
born,  and  oughtn't  he  to  know?  tells  us  a  very  different  story. 
The  scientist  declares  it  his  opinion  that  the  soft  rock  under 
neath  the  bend  at  Horse-shoe  Fall  crumbling  away,  affords  too 
weak  a  prop  for  the  mighty  waters;  but  the  Seneca  gives  all 
the  particulars,  and  his  word,  therefore,  should  have  prece 
dence. 

The  legend  is,  that  a  beautiful  Indian  maiden  was  bound 
by  some  law  to  marry  an  ugly,  wrinkled  uncouth  Indian.  The 
contract  had  been  ratified,  and  there  was  no  possible  escape 
for  her,  So  just  before  the  day  that  they,  by  the  custom  of  the 
tribe,  were  to  be  bound  as  one,  she  sprang  into  a  bark  canoe 
and  pushed  it  far  out  on  the  shooting  waters  of  Niagara. 
Down,  down  the  angry  rapids,  and  over  the  surging  sea  of 
falling  waters  sped  the  canoe  with  its  fair  freight.  The  patron 
deity  of  the  harvest,  the  "cloud-compelling,"  and  "rain-giving" 
Heno,  dwelt  in  the  cave  behind  the  falls.  He  saw  the  maiden 
falling  and  flew  out — for  he  had  massive  wings — and  caught 
her  ere  she  struck  the  rocks  below.  She  dwelt  for  months  in 
the  home  of  Heno.  While  there  she  learned  of  Heno  many 


52 

things  strange  and  entirely  new  to  her.  He  told  her  what  she 
and  her  tribe  had  longed  for  years  to  know,  why  it  was  that 
her  people  suffered  every  spring  from  the  inroads  of  a  fearful 
pestilence.  He  said  that  a  serpent  was  the  cause;  that  this  ser 
pent  had  his  slimy  haunts  under  the  village  and  that  he  poi 
soned  the  waters  of  the  streams  that  the  Indians  might  be  de 
stroyed  in  great  numbers  for  he  fed  on  the  bodies  of  the  dead, 
and  such  was  his  appetite  that  death  by  natural  causes  did  not 
supply  his  need. 

Heno  plumed  his  wings  and  bore  the  Indi'an  maiden  to 
her  home.  By  his  advice  she  told  her  people  the  cause  of  their 
suffering  and  death;  that  they  must  leave  their  present  hunt 
ing-grounds  and  villages  and  travel  farther  towards  the  lake. 

The  serpent,  disappointed  of  his  feast,  coiled  up  in  sullen 
mood,  but  at  last  he  made  up  his  mind  what  to  do.  He  would 
go  in  search  of  the  food.  So  he  ventured  forth  to  learn  the 
cause  of  the  lack  of  bodies.  He  found  that  the  Indians  had 
sought  another  home,  and,  pressed  with  hunger,  he  dragged 
forth  his  slimy  coils,  and  glided  noiselessly  after  the  departing 
people.  While  crawling  up  a  narrow  creek,  Heno,  who  had 
been  watching  him,  believing  this  to  be  the  favored  opportu 
nity  took  a  small  thunderbolt  from  his  pouch  in  which  he  car 
ried  large  numbers  of  them,  and  hurled  it  at  the  serpent.  The 
shores  and  hills  along  the  great  lake  reverberated  with  the  ter 
rific  explosion.  A  terrible  conflict  ensued.  Heno  had  hurled 
a  small  bolt  first  because  he  did  not  wish  to  deafen  the  deer  in 
the  wood  and  the  fish  in  the  lake,  and  he  thought  it  would 
slay  the  serpent.  He  saw  his  mistake  and  hurled  a  heavier 
bolt,,  but  this  did  not  kill  the  serpent.  Heno  became  alarmed. 
It  seemed  almost  as  if  all  the  thunderbolts  he  had  would  not 
be  sufficient.  But  finally  the  serpent  was  slain. 

The  monster's  body  stretched  more  than  a  mile,  and,  when 
he  brought  his  tail  around  in  the  agonies  of  death,  he  swept 
up  great  hills  of  sand.  \Vhen  the  serpent  floated  down  Niag 
ara  it  appeared  that  a  huge  mountain  were  afloat.  The  mon 
ster  lodged  at  the  very  brink  of  the  falls  and  being  obstructed 
by  a  rock,  piled  the  waters  mountain-high.  Then  the  ledge 


53 

gave  way  behind  the  serpent's  body  which  stretched  from 
bank  to  bank,  and  thus  was  formed  the  horse-shoe  winding 
of  the  falls.  This  is  the  legend  of  the  Senecas. 

THE    HUNGRY    PAIR. 

One  winter  a  hunting  party  met  with  sore  misfortune. 
They  could  find  no  game  save  now  and  then  a  squirrel  or  a 
porcupine.  Hunger  stared  them  in  the  face,  and  what  to  do 
they  knew  not.  In  solemn  council  it  was  agreed  that  whenev 
er  any  game  was  taken  it  should  be  given  up  for  the  good  of 
all.  One  Indian  killed  a  squirrel,  and  of  this  a  soup  was  made, 
nine  hundred  ninety-nine  parts  water,  one,  of  meat.  The 
starving  people  were  very  glad  of  even  this.  One  young  In 
dian,  who  had  just  married,  killed  a  porcupine,  and,  as  his 
wife  was  very  hungry,  he  cooked  the  meat  and  gave  the  most 
of  it  to  her.  Some  quills  of  the  porcupine  attracted  the  atten 
tion  of  the  other  Indians,  and  they  searched  the  matter  out. 
A  council  was  held  and  they  decreed  that,  while  they  admired 
his  devotion  to  his  wife,  they  thought  it  best  that  he  who  had 
broken  the  covenant  be  punished,  arid  they  also  thought  that 
his  wife  should  suffer  for  taking  the  food  when  she  knew  that 
so  many  of  the  party  were  starving.  So  the  Indians  poured 
water  on  the  fires  and  extinguished  every  spark. 

The  voung  Indian  and  his  wife  were  now  deserted  by  the 
rest  and  left  to  die.  It  was  very  cold  weather  and  they  had 
nothing  to  eat  and  very  little  to  wear,  their  cruel  people  hav 
ing  carried  everything  away. 

Thus  they  were  left  alone  with  nothing  but  a  rusty  knife 
which  Ska-no-wun-de,  (over  the  creek,)  had  concealed  in  a  hole 
when  the  heartless  Indians  put  the  fires  out.  What  should 
they  do  to  drive  away  the  cold?  Ska-no-wun-de  was  equal  to 
the  emergency.  He  could  not,  would  not,  see  her  suffer  from 
either  cold  or  hunger  whom  he  had  taken  for  his  wife.  He 
rubbed  two  pieces  of  dry  wood  together,  and  struck  a  spark, 
and  fanned  it  to  a  flame.  Both  piled  on  wood,  and  soon  they 
had  comfortable  quarters.  With  the  rusty  knife  they  managed 
to  complete  a  strong  bow  and  several  arrows.  Ska-no-wun-de 

14 


54 

found  deer  in  plenty  and  they  prospered.  Meanwhile  the  par 
ty  that  had  left  them  cruelly  to  die  encountered  every  hard 
ship.  None  of  them  could  find  game. 

Ha-wen-ne-yu  punished  them  for  their  wickedness.  Many 
starved  to  death.  The  father  and  mother  of  Ska-no- wun-de 
were  among  those  who  thought  the  young  Indian  and  his  wife 
should  be  left  to  die.  They  were  very  old  people  and  great 
eaters.  They  fell  to  devouring  the  other  Indians,  eating  them 
one  by  one  until  they  had  disposed  of  the  whole  company  of 
thirty,  and  even  then  they  were  not  satisfied.  They  said,  "We 
will  go  back  to  where  our  children  are,  and  we  will  feed  on 
them,  they  must  be  frozen  hard." 

Before  the  old  people  started  on  their  search  for  the  bodies 
of  their  son  and  daughter,  the  young  Indians  had  a  revelation 
of  everything  the  old  folks  meant  to  do,  and  some  voice  kept 
saying  to  them,  "Do  not  for  one  moment  trust  the  word  of  the 
Indians,  they  mean  no  good  to  you." 

The  young  Indians  traveled  on  farther  into  the  forest  un 
til  they  came  upon  a  charming  lake.  The  sun  was  shining, 
and,  though  the  ice  had  grown  thick  on  the  bosom  of  the  lake, 
the  sun  in  sympathy  for  them  said,  "  Build  a  canoe.  The  old 
folks  are  coming.  They  will  be  here  in  two  days.  I  will  melt 
the  ice  when  they  come,  and  bring  the  water  back,  and  you 
sailing  on  the  lake  shall  have  security  from  your  pursuers." 

When  the  old  folks  reached  the  spot  where  they  had 
helped  put  out  the  camp  fires  they  found  venison  in  plenty 
hanging  from  the  tree.  Having  eaten  this,  they  searched  and 
found  their  children's  tracks. 

Meanwhile  the  canoe  was  building,  and  just  as  the  old 
folks  came  in  sight,  Ska-no-wun-de  pushed  out  the  canoe  con 
taining  his  wife,  bear's  meat,  deer  and  porcupines.  When  the 
old  folks,  lean  and  hungry  still,  saw  them  they  hurried  to  the 
water's  edge  and  cried,  "O  let  us  in !  we  are  tired  out.  Your 
old  father  and  mother  are  very  weak.  They  are  weary  of  their 
sorrowful  life.  Let  us  go  in  the  canoe  with  you." 

The  sun  whispered  to  the  young  Indians,  saying,  "Do  not 
heed  them.  I  know  they  are  your  father  and  mother,  but 


00 

they  will  destroy  you  both  for  they  are  great  eaters  and  very 
hungry."  The  canoe  was  paddled  farther  away,  and  the  old 
Indians  waded  out  neck-deep,  arid,  suddenly,  a  huge  turtle 
snapped  at  the  old  man's  heel  and  pulled  him  under  and 
dragged  him  to  his  gloomy  home  in  the  mud;  then  hastening 
back  he  caught  the  old  woman  too,  and  dragged  her  down, 
and  all  creation  said  it  was  just  retribution. 

The  young  Indians  now  paddled  back  to  the  shore  arid 
after  long  days  and  many  moons  they  reached  the  valley 
whence  they  had  gone  with  the  hunting  party,  and,  sitting  by 
the  council  fire  of  the  tribe  they  told  the  story  of  the  unfortu 
nate  hunting  expedition. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ADORATION    OP    THE    MAPLE,  AND    OTHER    FESTIVALS. 

The  Seneca  shows  his  gratitude  for  kindnesses  bestowed 
upon  him  whether  they  come  from  friends  or  flow  from  trees. 
Whatever  adds  to  his  pleasure  or  contributes  to  his  happiness 
calls  out  expressions  of  thankfulness.  An  Indian  never  for 
gets  an  injury,  and  he  never  forgets  a  benefit. 

As  the  maple  is  the  first  substantial  blessing  after  the  long 
winter,  so  the  maple  thanksgiving  precedes  all  others  in  the 
year  if  we  except  the  general  thanksgiving  of  February. 

Prior  to  every  festival  the  people  hold  a  meeting  and  con 
fess  their  sins.  The  sweet  sap  from  the  maple  is  regarded  as  a 
special  blessing  and  when  it  begins  to  flow,  a  day  is  appoint 
ed  for  the  maple  festival.  Everybody  used  to  confess  during 
this  festival.  In  the  forenoon  the  Indians  partake  of  a  feast 
and  play  the  games  common  to  the  tribe.  They  next  as 
semble  in  council  and  speeches  are  made  by  the  moral  teach 
ers.  We  give  one  of  the  speeches: 

"  Friends  and  relatives: — The  sun,  the  ruler  of  the  day,  is 
high  in  his  path,  and  we  must  hasten  to  do  our  duty.  We  are 
gathered  here  to  observe  an  ancient  custom.  It  is  an  institu 
tion  handed  down  to  us  by  our  forefathers.  It  was  given  to 
them  by  the  Great  Spirit.  He  has  ever  required  his  people 
to  give  thanks  to  him  for  all  blessings  received.  Our  people 
have  always  tried  to  be  faithful  in  doing  this.  The  season 
when  the  maple  tree  yields  its  sweet  waters  has  again  returned. 
We  give  thanks  that  it  is  so.  We  expect  you.  all  to  join  111 
thanksgiving  to  the  maple.  We  expect  you  to  join  also  in 
thanksgiving  to  the  Great  Spirit  who  made  this  tree  for  the 
good  of  all. 


57 

"  Friends  and  relatives,  continue  to  listen: — AVe  are  glad 
to  see  so  many  here  and  we  give  you  thanks  that  you 
think  well  of  this  matter.  We  give  thanks  to  the  Great  Spir 
it  for  being  so  kind  to  us.  He  spares  our  lives  to  participate 
in  these  festivities.  Naho."  (I  have  done.) 

This  is  the  regular  speech  year  after  year.  Other  speech 
es  of  a  general  character  follow,  and  full  of  sound  advice.  It 
is  a  marvel  that  so  high  a  standard  of  right  is  planted  in  the 
conscience  of  the  Indian. 

One  other  speaker  addresses  the  people  somewhat  as  fol 
lows: 

"My  nephews,  listen: — The  Great  Spirit  has  given  us  the 
maple  tree;  he  has  made  the  sweet  sap  to  flow  and  he  expects 
that  we  shall  live  in  harmony.  He  gives  us  all  things.  We 
should  always  live  in  peace.  If  we  hurt  our  neighbor  with 
evil  speaking  he  will  know  it.  When  the  hungry  come  to  our 
door  we  are  not  to  turn  them  away.  The  Great  Spirit  feeds 
us;  he  gives  us  everything  and  he  will  be  displeased  if  we  turn 
the  hungry  away.  If  we  do  this  he  will  punish  us;  he  will 
take  away  our  crops  and  we  shall  go  hungry. 

"  Continue  to  listen: — If  one  does  wrong  do  not  treat  him 
harshly,  be  kind  to  him  and  the  Great  Spirit  will  reward  you. 
Do  not  let  your  brother  become  your  enemy.  Do  not  stir  up 
revenge  for  it  will  never  sleep  again.  The  Great  Spirit  gives 
you  a  path  to  walk  in;  continue  in  it  and  you  will  not  have 
trouble." 

This  part  of  the  ceremony  finished,  the  dance  follows.  It 
is  not  a  promiscuous  round  dance,  nor  is  it  a  waltz,  but  a 
rythmic  stepping  to  vocal  music. 

The  religious  speeches  are  concluded  at  noon.  It  has  ev 
er  been  held  by  the  Indians  that  the  forenoon  belongs  to  the 
Great  Spirit,  and  that  the  afternoon  is  dedicated  to  the  spirits 
of  the  dead,  hence  no  speeches  are  made  in  the  after  part  of 
the  day.  Meetings  are  held  several  times  a  year  by  the  Pagan 
Indians  and  the  high  priest  makes  a  speech  twelve  hours  long! 
dovoting  three  hours  each  of  the  forenoons  of  four  days  to  the 
accomplishment  of  his  task.  He  repeats,  but  only  that  what 

15 


he  says  may  be  indelibly  stamped  on  the  memory  of  his 
hearers. 

The  next  festival  of  the  season  is  the  Planting  festival.  Its 
object  is  to  give  thanks  to  the  Great  Spirit  for  the  return  of 
the  planting  season  and  to  seek  his  blessing  upon  the  seed 
and  the  soil  that  there  may  be  an  abundant  harvest. 

It  is  quite  remarkable  that  so  pure  a  religious  vein  runs 
through  the  Indian  character;  but  the  Indian,  as  we  know  him 
in  Western  New  York,  is  religious,  and  in  his  indeavors  to  fol 
low  the  light  of  natural  religion  which  has,  until  a  compara 
tively  recent  day,  been  his  only  light,  he  has  done  as  well,  we 
believe,  as  any  race  could  have  done  walking  in  the  obscure 
twilight  of  morality  among  pitfalls  innumerable.  The  Quak 
er  first  bore  to  this  people  the  blazing  light  of  revealed  reli 
gion,  and  the  tribe  has  reason  to  revere  the  memory  of  those 
sainted  Friends  from  the  City  of  Brotherly  Love  who  trans 
planted  to  this  uncultivated  soil  the  hardy  yet  subduing 
plants  of  Christian  graces,  whose  fragrance  is  a  balm  of  joy  to 
scores  of  these  dusky  people  and  a  blessing  to  the  entire  tribe. 

At  the  planting  festival  tobacco  is  sprinkled  upon  the  fire 
and  through  the  medium  of  the  smoke  communication  is 
thought  to  be  had  with  the  realms  above. 

As  the  tobacco  burns  the  following  prayer  is  said: — "Great 
Spirit,  listen  now  to  the  words  of  thy  people.  The  smoke  of 
our  offering  arises.  Kindly  listen  to  our  prayers  as  they  arise 
to  thee  in  the  smoke.  We  give  thanks  to  thee  for  the  return 
of  the  planting  season.  Give  to  us  a  favorable  season  that  GUI* 
crops  may  be  abundant.  Continue  to  listen,  for  the  smoke 
still  arises.  Preserve  us  from  diseases.  May  no  pestilence 
breathe  upon  us.  Give  us  strength.  Take  care  of  our  old 
men  and  of  our  little  ones.  Help  us  to  feel  what  we  say  and 
faithfully  to  perform  these  ceremonies.  Guide  the  minds  of 
thy  people  that  they  may  remember  thee  in  all  they  do. 
Naho." 

If  there  should  come  a  drouth,  a  fire  would  be  kindled 
and  tobacco  be  sprinkled  on  it,  and  in  the  incense  of  the  burn 
ing  leaves  a  prayer  be  borne  up  to  Heno  the  custodian  of 


thunderbolts.  He  is  importuned  to  send  rain  and  prevent 
famine.  The  keeper  of  the  faith  continues  to  sprinkle  tobac 
co  leaves  on  the  fire  and  a  prayer  is  made  to  the  Great  Spirit. 
It  is  the  idea  of  the  Indian  that  if  the  crop  is  threatened  Ha- 
wen-ne-yu  is  displeased  and  so  they  confess  and  beseech  that 
Heiio  may  receive  orders  to  send  rain.  A  dance  follows  this 
invocation. 

The  Strawberry  festival  is  the  next  in  order.  The  berry 
growing  wild  in  vast  abundance  furnishes  the  first  and  by  no 
means  the  least  valuable  delicacy  to  the  Indian.  This  festival 
closes  with  the  usual  ceremonies  and  a  strawberry  feast. 

The  Blueberry  or  Wortleberry  festival  is  held  in  grateful 
acknowledgement  of  the  first  gift  of  the  trees  or  bushes. 

The  next  is  the  Green  Corn  festival.  It  lasts  three  days 
and  is  made  a  thanksgiving  of  considerable  importance.  It  is 
a  time  of  great  rejoicing  because  corn  is  the  Indian's  staff  of 
life  and  when  his  crop  is  assured  his  joy  is  full.  There  is  a 
beautiful  legend  that  the  corn  plant  sprang  from  the  bosom  of 
the  mother  of  the  Great  Spirit  after  she  was  buried;  that  she 
called  the  Indians  her  children,  and,  cherishing  in  her  heart 
good-will  to  her  children,  when  she  died  her  good-will  sprang 
forth  in  the  form  of  a  plant  and  from  this  the  Indians  were 
fed. 

The  Green  Corn  festival  is  introduced  with  congratula 
tory  speeches.  The  feather  dance  follows,  then  the  regular 
thanksgiving  address,  during  which  tobacco  is  freely  sprinkled 
on  the  fire.  There  are  numerous  inferior  dances  subsequent 
to  the  other  religious  ceremonies. 

Games  and  feasting  close  the  festivities  of  the  first  day. 
The  second  day  is  given  to  speech-making  and  dancing  the 
thanksgiving  dance.  The  feather  dance  and  thanksgiving 
dance  do  not  differ  materially;  the  latter  is  interrupted  at  fre 
quent  intervals  by  thanksgiving  speeches. 

Vocal  music  with  the  accompaniment  of  a  rattle  is  the  on 
ly  kind  furnished  the  dancers  on  these  occasions,  and  it  is  not 
too  much  to  say  that  the  Senecas  are  the  most  wonderful  sing 
ers  any  where  to  be  found.  Their  voices  are  clear  and  sweet- 


60 

they  take  special  delight  in  minor  strains,  and  render  with 
great  skill  most  difficult  music.  The  degree  of  perfection  to 
which  the  Indians  arrive  in  cultivation  of  the  voice  in  singing 
is  remarkable.  One  of  the  most  practiced  musicians  in  West 
ern  New  York  is  Mr.  A.  Sim  Logan.  With  a  voice  of  great 
compass  and  a  perfectly  cultivated  taste,  his  rendering  of  diffi 
cult  music  is  the  delight  of  all.  As  a  cornetist  he  is  unsur 
passed;  a  progressive,  wide-awake,  educated  Seneca. 

A  company  in  costume  begin  the  Green  Corn  dance  and 
in  about  two  or  three  minutes  the  music  ceases  and  a  speaker 
says,  "We  give  thanks  to  the  maple."  The  dance  is  resumed 
and  in  a  moment  ceases,  while  another  speaker  returns  thanks 
to  the  bushes  and  trees.  Thus  they  review  at  intervals  all 
the  benefits  of  the  season  spicing  well  the  speeches  with  the 
dance.  On  the  third  day  all  the  people  join  in  chorus  of 
praise,  and  thanks  are  returned  for  all  material  benefits,  for 
kindnesses  shown  them  by  others,  for  all  advantages,  both  pub 
lic  and  private,  enjoyed  by  the  tribe.  The  whole  of  the  third 
day  is  given  to  singing  the  gratitude  of  the  people.  Individ 
uals  also  give  thanks  personally  to  all  by  whom  they  have 
been  aided. 

The  succotash  feast  which  follows  would  gratify  the  veri 
est  epicure.  The  Indians,  of  all  people,  know  best  how  to  se 
cure  a  "  divine  blending  of  flavors"  in  the  preparation  of  succo 
tash.  The  Indians  have  ever  been  accustomed  to  ask  a  bless 
ing  on  their  feast.  One  of  the  "  keepers  of  the  faith,"  pitching 
his  voice  on  a  high  shrill  key,  sends  forth  an  indescribable 
sound  and  at  its  close  all  the  people  join  in  chorus.  Thus  do 
they  say  grace. 

The  last  in  our  list  of  festivals  is  the  Harvest  gathering. 
The  Senecas  regard  corn,  squashes  and  beans  as  nature's  great 
beneficent  trinity.  Three  good  spirits  are  associated  with 
these  products,  and  in  expressing  thanks  to  these  they  return 
gratitude  to  Ha-wen-ne-yu. 

We  have  said  that  the  Indians  of  Western  New  York  are 
a  religious  people.  A  review  of  these  ceremonies  will  confirm 
the  truth  of  the  statement.  The  Indian  enters  heartily  into 


61 

his  forms  of  worship  and  clings  tenaciously  to  his  belief.  It 
would  be  resented  by  average  white  folks  if  they  were  told 
that  in  some  respects  the  Indians  are  their  equals,  but  you 
could  no  sooner  succeed  in  attempts  at  proselyting  an  Indian 
of  one  Protestant  denomination  over  to  another  than  you 
could  speak  a  tree  up  by  its  roots. 

The  Senecas  account  their  festivals  as  the  oases  in  the  des 
ert;  they  are  the  green  spots  in  their  life  and  in  no  half-heart 
ed  way  do  they  engage  in  them.  The  recurrence  of  the  festi 
val  seasons  is  a  delight  to  the  Indian  and  he  enters  with  all 
the  ardor  of  his  fyeing  into  the  performance  of  the  old-time  sa 
cred  rights. 

Approach  the  Indian  with  a  religious  subject  and  you  are 
at  once  aware  that  you  converse  with  one  that  takes  naturally 
and  kindly  to  your  theme,  for  he  is  a  religious  being.  He 
makes  a  religion  of  almost  everything;  less  hurtful  and  dan 
gerous  this,  than  to  make  religion  of  nothing. 

As  at  certain  periods  of  the  world's  history,  great  reform 
ers  have  sprung  up  revolutionizing  the  world,  so  the  Senecas 
have  had  reformers,  men,  not  one  whit  less  sincere  and  influ 
ential  among  the  tribes  than  our  great  reformers  have  been 
among  us.  Eighty  years  ago  a  reformer  arose  among  the  Sen 
ecas  who,  while  assuming  much  that  smacked  of  imposture, 
displayed  marvelous  wisdom.  His  name  was  Handsome  Lake. 
He  claimed  to  have  received  his  words  from  the  Great  Spirit. 
We  subjoin  a  portion  of  his  speech  as  written  out  thirty  years 
ago  by  Sose-ha-wa: 

"The  four  messengers  (i.  e.,  the  angels)  said  further  to 
Handsome  Lake: — Tell  your  people,  and  in  particular,  the 
keepers  of  the  faith,  to  be  strong-minded,  and  adhere  to  the 
true  faith.  We  fear  the  Evil-minded  will  go  among  them  with 
temptations.  He  may  introduce  the  fiddle.  He  may  bring 
cards,  and  leave  them  among  you.  The  use  of  these  is  a  great 
sin.  Let  the  people  be  on  their  guard  and  the  keepers  of  the 
faith  be  watchful  and  vigilant,  that  none  of  these  evils  may 
find  their  way  among  the  people.  Let  the  keepers  of  the  faith 
preserve  the  law  of  moral  conduct  in  all  its  purity.  When 

16 


62 

meetings  are  to  be  held  for  instruction,  and  the  people  are 
preparing  to  go,  the  Evil-minded  is  then  busy.  He  goes  from 
one  to  another,  whispering  many  temptations  by  which  to 
keep  them  away.  He  will  even  follow  persons  into  the  doojr 
of  the  council,  and  induce  some,  at  that  time,  to  bend  their 
steps  away.  Many  resist  until  they  have  entered,  and  then 
leave  it.  This  habit,  once  indulged,  obtains  a  fast  hold,  and 
the  evil  propensity  increases  with  age.  This  is  a  great  sin 
and  should  be  at  once  abandoned.  Thus  they  said.  Speak 
evil  of  none.  If  you  can  say  no  good  of  a  person,  then  be  si 
lent.  Let  not  your  tongues  betray  you  into  evil.  Let  all  be 
mindful  of  this;  for  these  are  the  words  of  our  Creator.  Let 
all  strive  to  cultivate  friendship  with  those  who  surround  them. 
This  is  pleasing  to  the  Great  Spirit." 

On  the  following  clay  the  speech  was  continued  as  follows: 
"  Friends  and  Relatives,  uncover  now  your  heads;  continue 
to  listen  to  my  rehearsal  of  the  sayings  communicated  to 
Handsome  Lake  by  the  four  messengers  of  the  Great  Spirit. 
We  have  met  again  around  the  council  fire.  We  have  fol 
lowed  the  ancient  custom  of  greeting  each  other.  This  is 
right  and  pleasing  to  our  Maker.  He  now  looks  down  upon 
this  assembly.  He  sees  us  all.  He  is  informed  of  the  cause  of 
our  gathering  and  it  is  pleasing  to  him.  Life  is  uncertain. 
While  we  live  let  us  love  each  other.  Let  us  sympathize  al 
ways  with  the  suffering  and  need}^  Let  us  also  always  rejoice 
with  those  who  are  glad.  This  is  now  the  third  day,  and  my 
time  for  speaking  to  you  is  drawing  to  a  close.  Many  moons 
and  seasons  will  pass  ere  the  sacred  council-brand  shall  be 
again  uncovered.  Be  watchful,  therefore,  and  remember  faith 
fully  what  you  may  now  hear.  Many  of  you  may  be  ignorant 
of  the  Spirit  of  Medicine.  It  watches  over  all  constantly,  and 
assists  the  needy  whenever  it  is  required  to  do  so.  The  Groat 
Spirit  designed  that  some  men  should  possess  the  gift  of  skill 
in  medicine.  But  he  is  pained  to  see  a  medicine  man  making 
exorbitant  charges  for  attending  the  sick.  »When  a  sick  per 
son  recovers  his  health,  he  must  return  his  thanks  to  the 
Great  Spirit  by  means  of  tobacco;  for  it  is  by  his  goodness  that 


he  is  made  well.  He  blesses  the  medicine,  and  the  medicine 
man  must  receive  as  his  reward  whatever  the  gratitude  of  the 
restored  may  tender.  This  is  right  and  proper.  Many  are 
unfortunate  and  cannot  pay  for  attendance.  It  is  sufficient 
for  such  to  return  thanks  to  the  medicine  man  upon  recovery. 
The  remembrance  that  he  has  saved  the  life  of  a  relative  will 
be  a  sufficient  reward.  Listen  further  to  what  the  Great  Spir 
it  has  told  us.  He  has  made  us  a  race,  separate  and  distinct 
from  the  pale-face.  It  is  a  great  sin  to  intermarry,  and  inter 
mingle  the  blood  of  the  two  races.  Let  none  be  guiltv  of  this 
transgression.  At  one  time  the  four  messengers  said  to  Hand 
some  Lake,  lest  the  people  should  disbelieve  you,  and  not  re 
pent  and  forsake  their  evil  ways,  we  will  now  disclose  to  you 
the  House  of  Torment,  the  dwelling  of  the  Evil-minded. 
Handsome  Lake  was  particular  in  describing  to  us  all  that  he 
witnessed;  and  the  course  which  departed  spirits  were  accus 
tomed  to  take  on  leaving  the  earth.  There  was  a  road  which 
led  upward.  At  a  certain  point  it  branched;  one  branch  led 
straight  forward  to  the  home  of  the  Great  Spirit,  and  the  other 
turned  aside  to  the  House  of  Torment,  At  the  place  where  the 
roads  separated  were  stationed  two  keepers,  one  representing 
the  Good  and  the  other  the  Evil  Spirit.  When  a  person 
reached  the  fork,  if  wicked,  by  a  motion  from  the  evil  keeper, 
he  turned  upon  the  road  which  led  to  the  abode  of  the  Evil- 
minded.  But  if  virtuous  and  good,  the  other  keeper  directed 
him  upon  the  straight  road.  The  latter  was  not  much  traveled; 
while  the  former  was  so  frequently  trodden,  that  no  grass 
could  grow  in  the  pathway.  It  sometimes  happened  that  the 
keepers  had  great  difficulty  in  deciding  which  path  the  per 
son  ought  to  take,  when  the  good  and  bad  actions  of  the  indi 
vidual  were  nearly  balanced.  But  it  was  decided  that  if  they 
had  committed  any  sin  they  should  go  to  the  House  of  Tor 
ment  to  remain  one  day,  (which  is  there  one  of  our  years,) 
some  for  a  month.  After  they  have  atoned  for  their  sins,  thev 
pass  to  heaven.  When  they  have  committed  one  of  the  great 
sins — witchcraft,  murder  and  infanticide — they  never  pass  to 
heaven  but  are  tormented  forever. 

' 


04 

"Having  conducted  Handsome  Lake  to  this  place,  he  saw 
large  and  dark  colored  mansion  covered  with  soot.  One  of 
the  four  then  held  out  his  rod,  and  the  top  of  the  house  moved 
up,  until  they  could  look  down  upon  all  that  was  within.  He 
saw  many  rooms.  The  first  object  that  met  his  eye  was  a  hag 
gard-looking  man;  his  sunken  eyes  cast  upon  the  ground,  and 
his  form  half  consumed  by  the  torments  he  had  suffered.  This 
man  was  a  drunkard.  The  Evil-minded  then  appeared  and 
called  him  by  name.  As  the  man  obeyed  the  call  he  dipped 
from  a  caldron  a  quantity  of  red-hot  liquid,  and  commanded 
him  to  drink  it,  as  it  was  a  drink  he  loved.  The  man  did  as 
he  was  told,  and  immediately  a  stream  of  fire  issued  from  his 
mouth.  He  cried  for  help,  but  there  was  no  help  for.  him.  The 
Tormentor  then  told  him  to  sing  and  make  merry  as  he  was 
accustomed  to  do  while  on  earth  when  he  had  drank  the  fire 
water.  Let  all  drunkards  be  warned  by  this. 

"Others  were  summoned.  There  came  before  him  two  per 
sons,  who  appeared  to  be  husband  and  wife.  He  told  them  to 
do  what  they  had  always  done  on  earth.  They  commenced  to 
quarrel.  They  raged  so  at  each  other,  that  their  tongues  and 
eyes  ran  out  so  far  that  they  could  neither  see  nor  speak. 
"  This,"  said  they,  "  is  the  punishment  of  quarrelsome  and  dis 
puting  husbands  and  wives."  Let  such  also  be  warned,  and 
live  in  peace. 

"  Next  he  called  up  a  woman  who  had  been  a  witch.  First 
he  plunged  her  into  a  caldron  of  boiling  liquid.  In  her  cries 
of  distress,  she  begged  the  Evil-minded  to  give  her  a  cooler 
place.  He  then  plunged  her  into  a  freezing-cold  liquid.  Then 
she  cried  because  she  was  too  cold.  "  This  woman,"  said  the 
four  Messengers,  "shall  always  be  tormented  in  this  manner." 

"The  Evil-minded  next  called  up  a  man  who  had  been  in 
the  habit  of  beating  his  wife.  Having  led  him  up  to  a  red-hot 
statue  of  a  woman  he  told  him  to  do  what  he  had  always  done 
while  on  earth.  He  obeyed,  and  began  to  strike  the  statue. 
The  sparks  fell  in  showers,  and  the  arm  that  struck  her  was 
totally  consumed.  Such  is  the  punishment  awaiting  all  those 
who  beat  their  wives. 


65 

"  He  looked  again  and  saw  a  woman,  whose  arms  and 
hands  were  nothing  but  bones.  She  had  sold  fire-water  to 
the  Indians,  and  the  flesh  was  eaten  from  her  hands  and  arms. 
This  would  be  the  fate  of  all  rumsellers. 

"  Again  he  looked,  and  in  one  apartment  he  saw  one  who 
had  been  a  friend  to  him  on  earth.  He  was  removing  a  heap 
of  sand  a  grain  at  a  time,  and,  although  he  had  labored  for 
years  at  it,  the  heap  was  no  smaller.  This  is  the  punishment 
of  those  Indians  who  sell  their  land.  Near  by  was  a  field  of 
corn  filled  with  weeds.  He  saw  women  trying  to  cut  them 
down,  but  as  fast  as  they  did  this  the  weeds  grew  up  again. 
This  is  the  punishment  of  lazy  women.  [There  seems  to  have 
been  no  provision  for  lazy  men.] 

The  speaker  continues,  "  Many  of  our  people  live  to  a  very 
old  age.  Your  Creator  says  that  you  must  treat  them  with 
reverence  and  affection.  They  have  seen  and  felt  much  of  the 
pain  and  misery  of  earth.  Be  kind  to  them  when  old  and 
helpless.  Wash  their  hands  and  face,  and  nurse  them  with 
care.  This  is  the  will  of  Ha-wen-ne-yu. 

"  At  another  time  the  four  Messengers  said  to  Handsome 
Lake,  they  would  now  show  to  him  Washington,  (the  Destroy 
er  of  Villages,  as  his  Indian  name  signifies.)  Upon  the  road 
leading  to  heaven  he  could  see  a  light,  far  away  in  the  dis 
tance,  moving  to  and  fro.  Its  brightness  far  exceeded  the 
brilliancy  of  the  noonday  sun.  They  said  the  journey  was  as 
follows:  First,  they  came  to  a  cold  spring.  Here  was  a  rest 
ing  place.  From  here  they  proceeded  into  pleasant,  fairy 
grounds,  which  spread  out  in  every  direction.  Soon  they 
reached  heaven.  The  light  was  dazzling.  Berries  of  every 
description  grew  in  plenty,  a  single  one  of  them  satisfied  hun 
ger.  Sweet  fragrance  was  in  the  air.  Fruits  were  hanging 
everywhere.  The  inhabitants  of  this  celestial  land  spent  their 
time  in  most  pleasing  occupation  and  repose.  No  evil  could 
enter  there.  None  there  could  ever  commit  sin.  Families 
were  united  and  harmonious.  The  people  had  bodily  form, 
the  senses,  and  the  remembrance  of  the  earthly  life.  No  white 
man  ever  entered  heaven.  He  looked  and  saw  an  inclosure 

17 


66 

upon  a  plain,  just  without  the  entrance  of  heaven.  Within  it 
was  a  fort.  Here  he  saw  Washington  walking  to  and  fro  with 
in  the  inclosure.  His  countenance  indicated  a  great  and  good 
man.  This  was  the  only  pale-face  who  ever  left  the  earth. 
He  was  kind  to  you,  when  on  the  settlement  of  the  great  diffi 
culty  between  the  Americans  and  the  Great  Crown,  you  were 
abandoned  to  the  mercy  of  your  enemies.  The  Crown  told 
the  great  American,  that  as  for  his  allies,  the  Indians,  he  might 
kill  them  if  he  liked.  The  great  American  judged  that  this 
would  be  cruel  arid  unjust.  He  believed  that  they  were  made 
by  the  Great  Spirit,  and  were  entitled  to  the  enjoyments  of  life. 
He  was  kind  to  you  and  extended  over  you  his  protection. 
For  this  reason  he  has  been  allowed  to  leave  the  earth.  But 
he  is  never  permitted  to  go  into  the  presence  of  the  Great 
Spirit.  Although  alone,  he  is  perfectly  happy.  All  faithful 
Indians  pass  by  him  as  they  go  to  heaven.  They  see  him  and 
recognize  him,  but  pass  on  in  silence.  No  word  ever  passes 
his  lips. 

Friends  and  relatives,  it  was  by  the  influence  of  this  great 
man,  that  we  were  spared  as  a  people,  and  yet  live.  Had  he 
not  granted  us  his  protection,  where  would  we  have  been? 
Perished,  all  perished. 

"  The  four  Messengers  further  said  to  Handsome  Lake, 
they  were  fearful  that,  unless  the  people  repented  and  obeyed 
his  commands,  the  patience  and  forbearance  of  their  Creator 
would  be  exhausted;  that  he  would  be  angry  with  them,  and 
caus'e  their  increase  to  fail. 

"Our  Creator  made  light  and  darkness.  He  made  the 
sun  to  heat  and  shine  over  the  world.  He  made  the  moon,  al 
so,  to  shine  by  night,  and  to  cool  the  world,  if  the  sun  made  it 
too  hot  by  day.  Heno,  by  direction  of  the  Great  Spirit,  will 
then  cease  to  act.  The  keeper  of  the  springs  and  running 
brooks  will  cease  to  rule  them  for  the  good  of  man.  The  sun 
will  cease  to  fulfil  its  office.  Total  darkness  will  then  cover 
the  earth.  A  great  smoke  will  rise,  and  spread  over  the  face 
of  the  earth.  Then  will  come  out  of  it  all  monsters,  and  poi 
sonous  animals  created  by  the  Evil-minded,  and  they,  with  the 
wicked  upon  the  earth,  will  perish  together. 


But  before  this  dreadful  time  shall  come,  the  Great  Spirit 
will  take  home  to  himself  all  the  good  and  faithful.  They  will 
lay  themselves  down  to  sleep  and  from  this  sleep  of  death, 
they  will  rise  and  go  home  to  their  Creator.  Thus  they  said. 

"  Remember  and  understand  the  fate  which  awaits  the 
earth,  and  the  unfaithful  and  unbelieving.  Our  Creator  looks 
down  upon  us.  The  four  Angels  from  above  see  us.  They 
are  pleased  to  witness  this  gathering.  I  have  done.  May  the 
Great  Spirit,  who  rules  all  things,  watch  over  and  protect  you 
from  every  harm  and  danger,  while  you  travel  the  journey  of 
life.  May  the  blessing  of  the  Great  Spirit  rest  upon  you  all, 
and  bestow  upon  you  life,  health,  peace  and  prosperity,  and 
may  you  all  make  return  to  him  for  his  great  goodness.  Naho." 

The  foregoing  speech  is  repeated  every  year  even  at  the 
present  time  substantially  as  given.  Extended  fragments 
have  been  taken  down  for  the  use  of  the  writer,  by  Indian  in 
terpreters,  but  we  have  given  the  speech  as  translated  by  an 
eminent  Indian  several  years  ago.  The  speech  bears  evidence 
of  a  master  mind  and  represents  that  peculiar  eloquence  for 
which  the  Senecas  are  distinguished.  It  reveals,  also,  the 
charming  simplicity  of  Indian  life,  their  trust  and  faith  in  the 
Great  Spirit,  and  jealous  regard  for  old  customs.  Christian 
missionaries  throw  no  obstacles  in  the  way  of  such  teaching, 
but  seek  to  lead  the  Indians  to  that  true  and  only  source  of 
abiding  integrity,  the  religion  of  the  Bible;  happy  if  such 
teaching  as  the  great  reformer  inculcated  become  the  standard 
of  Indian  morals.  This  speech  is  to  be  commended  to  the  at 
tention  of  the  white  race  everywhere.  No  little  toil  will  be  re 
quired  of  the  "stronger  race"  even,  to  scale  the  heights  of  vir 
tue  thus  portrayed  by  an  untutored  Seneca. 


CHAPTER  XT. 

THE    SENECA    LANGUAGPJ. 

The  Seneca  language  is  one  of  some  regularity  although 
not  a  written  language. 

Attempts  have  been  made,  and  with  very  considerable 
success,  to  represent  the  sounds  by  English  letters.  It  is  neces 
sary,  however,  to  employ  certain  unusual  markings,  the  mean 
ing  of  which  has  to  be  explained  to  the  Indians. 

The  letter  a  ending  a  syllable  often  has  a  strong  nasal  tone 
accompanying  it;  this  nasal  sound  is  represented  by  a  hyphen 
immediately  under  the  a.  A  standing  alone  or  without  mark 
ing  has  the  sound  of  ar;  with  the  nasal  marking,  it  has  the 
sound  of  arng.  A  with  the  circumflex  accent  over  it  and  the 
hyphen  under  it  makes  a  high  grunt,  the  a  being  sounded  as 
a  in  hat.  The  letter  e  is  pronounced  ay;  the  letter  i  is  pro 
nounced  ee.  0  with  the  hyphen  under  it  is  a  deep  nasal. 
Every  letter  is  sounded.  The  Senecas  have  no  such  primary 
sounds  as  we  would  represent  by  the  letters  B,  F,  L,  M,  P, 
Q,R,  V,  X,  Z.  The  alphabet,  therefore,  of  the  Seneca  language 
is  as  follows:  A,  C,  D,  E,  G,  H,  I,  J,  K,  N,  O,  S,  T,  U,  W,  Y. 
In  the  translation  of  a  proper  name  into,  the  Indian,  the 
word  is  incorporated  without  change.  The  Indian  makes 
no  use  of  the  lips  in  pronunciation,  and  the  labials  are  want 
ing  in  his  dialect.  About  twenty-eight  elementary  sounds  are 
distinguishable  in  the  language. 

Every  language  suffers  loss  from  the  wear  and  tear  of  use] 
Time  changes  language  and  wears  out  some  forms  just  as  it 
wears  out  shingles  011  the  roof  of  a  house.  In  thirty  years  the 
Seneca  language  has  felt  the  abrasion  of  time.  Many  old  forms 
have  died;  some  new  ones  have  sprung  to  life  as  the  language 


69 

has  felt  the  refining' touch  of  civilization.  Formerly  the  word 
for  Day  was  spelled  An -da  now  it  is  spelled  An-dah.  The 
word  for  Dog  was  spelled  Je-yah,  now  spelled  Ga-yeh.  The 
word  for  wind  was  spelled  Ga-o,  now  Ga-oh.  The  great  ma 
jority  of  Seneca  words  have  three  and  four  syllables  as  will  be 
noticed  in  specimens  which  we  will  give. 

The  language  has  three  numbers;  the  Singular,  the  Du 
al  and  the  Plural.  They  distinguish  the  Dual  and  Plural  in 
this  way:  You  can  say,  All  three  birds  sat  on  a  tree,  but  not 
all  two  birds  sat  on  a  tree.  This  difficulty  seems  to  have  given 
rise  to  the  Dual. 

The  nouns  are  inflected  to  convey  the  idea  of  plurality. 
There  is  some  regularity  in  the  inflection.  The  word  Ge-da-o 
means,  a  bird;  the  plural  form  is  Ge-da-o-suh-uh,  birds.  Ga-ne- 
o-wa-o  means  a  brook i  the  plural  isGa-ne-o-wa-o-ne-o,  very  like 
the  flowing  of  waters,  as  the  frequent  repetition  of  the  word 
will  prove.  The  word  Ga-hun-da  means  a  creek.  Ga-huii-da- 
ne-o  means  creeks. 

The  numerals  above  twenty  are  formed  very  similarly  to 
those  of  the  Latin. 

The  Seneca,  to  express  difference  of  gender  makes  use  of 
different  words;  he  cannot  designate  gender  by  terminations 
as*is  done  in  the  Latin  and  Greek.  There  are  three  genders 
in  Seneca.  Masculine,  Feminine  and  Neuter.-  The  Neuter  in 
cludes  all  inanimate  objects,  and  is  almost  the  most  important 
gender  of  the  three.  In  their  declension  of  nouns  there  is  a 
curious  state  of  things.  Although  not  reducable  to  a  regular 
paradigm,  the  declensions  in  Seneca  are  vastly  more  numer 
ous  than  in  the  Latin.  One  great  difficulty  in  learning  the 
language  is,  the  almost  infinite  diversity  of  cases.  We  give  a 
few  phrases  showing  how  this  may  be.  Take  the  word  man. 
Every  relation  in  which  you  place  the  word  demands  a  sepa 
rate  case.  Of  a  man,  to  a  man,  with  a  man,  after  a  man,  above  a 
man,  belonging  to  a  man,  at  a  man's  house,  man  at  my  house,  and 
so  on;  an  of-case,  a  to-case,  a  with-case,  an  after-case,  an  above- 
case,  a  belonging-to-case,  an  at-case,  &c. 

Adjectives  are  numerous.      The   Indians  have  three   de- 

18 


70 

grees  of    comparison.      In    comparison,    adjectives    are    not 
changed;  words  are  added.     Good  is  compared  as  follows: 

Good,  Better  good.  Best  Good. 

We-yoh  Ah-gwas-we-yoh.  Ha-yo-go-sote-we-yoh. 

Take  the  adjective  white,  Ga-geh-ant. 

White.  Better  white  or  whiter  Best  white  or  whitest. 

Ga-geh-ant.       Ah-gwus-ga-geh-ant.     Ha-yo-go-sote-ga-geh-ant. 

The  article  a  or  an  does  not  appear  in  the  language,  but 
the  is  frequent.  Adverbs  are  numerous.  Since  the  Seneca 
dialect  is  one  of  ejaculations,  interjections  abound.  Preposi 
tions  are  wanting;  and  the  attempts  of  an  Indian  to  handle  in 
his  own  language  many -expressions  occurring  in  our  own  are 
ludicrous  in  the  extreme. 

The  Seneca  language  has  remarkable  harmony  with  con 
stitutional  weariness;  there  are  times  when  the  Indian  shows 
excitement  and  by  the  free  use  of  ejaculations  gives  vent  to  his 
feelings.  In  order  to  swear,  the  Indian  learns  a  few  set  phras 
es  from  the  white  man  and  when  angry  blazes  away  with  ter 
rific  fury.  But  to  our  subject: 

We  have  made  no  mention  of  the  verbs.  According  to 
the  Indian  a  noun  is  a  lifeless  thing,  like  a  tomahawk,  but  a 
verb  is  like  the  tomahawk  impelled  by  the  vigor  of  the  arm. 
The  noun  is  the  instrument;  the  verb,  the  instrument  with 
force  applied.  The  noun  does  nothing;  the  verb  executes, 
therefore  is  a  living  thing. 

Expression  of  thought  is  direct.  The  language  is  not 
adapted  to  insinuation  or  double  speaking.  It  is  a  matter-of- 
fact  language.  The  Indian  is  serious  minded.  His  is  not  a 
language  for  punning.  If  he  wishes  to  perpetrate  a  joke,  he 
does  it  directly.  He  cannot  do  it  in  any  way  but  point-blank. 
Most  other  languages  admit  of  a  play  of  words.  Take  a  case 
in  point;  the  words  valid  and  volui  in  the  Latin.  We  remem 
ber  to  have  heard  the  venerable  Dr.  Soule  who  was  principal 
of  Phillips  Exeter  Academy  for  upwards  of  forty  years,  say, 
speaking  to  the  class  on  this  very  subject,  that  in  the  palmy 
days  of  Dr.  Abbott,  his  predecessor,  it  was  customary  for  the 
boys  to  speak  the  Latin  language  when  conversing  with  the 


71 

Principal.  If  absent  from  church  on  Sunday  the  monitors  re 
ported  the  fact,  and  an  excuse  in  Latin  was  demanded  of  the 
absentees.  If  sick,  the  delinquent  would  say  "  Non  valid."  I 
was  not  well.  Now  it  occurred  to  some  that  this  word  might 
be  confounded  with  volui  so  as  to  let  off  those  who  were  absent 
for  other  causes.  Non  volui,  I  was  not  witting,  with  &  slight 
modification  of  the  sound  of  o  might  pass  for  non  valid. 

It  did  pass  for  some  months,  the  Dr. — and  no  man  would 
deliberately  tell  him  a  lie  such  was  the  respect  for  him — not 
detecting  the  turn  given.  Unfortunately,  one,  less  adroit  than 
his  companions,  confused,  in.  the  Doctor's  presence,  blundered 
and  said  "non  volui,"  exposing  the  trick. 

The  Seneca  language  admits  of  no  such  play  of  words,  and 
if  one  lie  in  the  Seneca  he  does  so  without  any  qualifications 
whatever.  No  such  thing  as  a  white  lie  is  known.  With  this 
people  all  lies  are  black. 

It  would  not  be  an  insurmountable  task  to  prepare  a  complete 
grammar  of  the  Seneca  language. 

The  conjugation  of  verbs  maybe  matter  of  interest  and 
we  subjoin  the  forms  of  the  verb,  Ga-ta-i-neh,  "I  go." 

INDICATIVE  MOOD. 

PRESENT  TENSE.    I  (JO. 

Singular  Plural  Dual 

1  Ga  ta  i  neh  1  A  gwah  da  dyo  eeh  ]  Agyat  ta  i  neh 

2  lis  sataineh  2  lis  kuh  swah  da  dyo  eeh  2  Jathaiiieh 

3  Ha  ta  i  neh  3  Ga  gvva  goh  ha  noh  da  dyo  eeh  3  Yat  ha  i  neh 

IMPERFECT  TENSE,  Iwasgoing. 

1  Yah  da  dyo  eeh  1  Ga  gwe  goh  a  gwa  ta  i  neh          1  Agyah  da  dyo  eeh 

2  Sahdadyoeeh  2  Gagwegoh  swat  ha  i  neh  2  lis  kuh  a  jahdadyoeeh 

3  Ha  da  dyo  eeh  3  Gagwegoh  haa noh  ta  inch        3  Yah  da  dyo  eeh 


FUTURE  TENSE,  I  shall,  or  ivill  (/<>. 

1  Agahdadih  1  Gagwegoh  adwahdadih  1  Adyahdadih 

2  lis  ah  sah da dih  2  Gagwegoh  aswahdadih  2  lis  kuh  ajahdadih 

3  Xeh  aoh  da  dih  3  Ga  gwe  goh  aa  noh  da  dih  3  Neh  kuh  a  yah  d a  d i  1 1 


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73 

There  is  no  Infinitive  Mood.  If  the  Senecas  wish  to  say 
"[intend  to  go  away"  they  really  say  "That  I  may  go  away  is 
lodged  in  my  mind" 

Their  distinctions  in  gender  are  as  follows:     Ha-fireh-eih 

c^>  O  O 

is  old  man,  Ya-geh-gih,  old  woman;  Ga-geh-gih,  old  animal. 
Geh-gih  is  the  word  for  old,  and  Ha  for  he,  Ya  for  site,  and  Ga 
for  it.  Thus  literally,  the  translation  would  be,  old  he,  old  she, 
old  it.  Hoh-ni-gont  means  wise;  Hoo-gweh  means  man  (as  an 
intellectual  being)  and  ivise  man  is  Hoh-ni-gont  hoo-gweh. 
Now  notice  the  feminine  prefix  of  both  the  adjective  and  noun 
required  to  change  this  to  wise  ivoman.  We  have  given  one 
prefix  above,  viz:  Ya.  Wise  woman  would  be  (ro-ni-gont  ya- 
goo-gweh. 

In  closing  this  chapter,  which,  if  it  were  expedient,  we 
would  gladly  extend,  we  give  the  Lord's  Prayer  in  Seneca  with 
a  literal  translation: — 

Gwah-nih,  ga-o-yah-geh  chih  dyoh.  Da-ye-sa-ah-sao-nyook 

Our  Father,         in  heaven  thou    dwellest.  Prayed  to  be  thy 

he-ni-sah-sa-nan-do-gah-dih.       Ee-dweh    niis    ne-sai-wah-geh 

holy  name.  Let  come        thine  OAvn 

ne-dwa-noh-do-ohs-ah-gwen-ni-yuh;  (one  word)     neh,  kuh  niis 

kingdom ;  and          thy 

he-ni-di-sah-ni-go-oh-daah  neh-huh  ni-ya-wah  ne-yo-an-jah-geh 

will  be  done  on  earth 

naeh  he-ni-dyuh-daah  ne-ga-o-yah-geh.     Da-gyoh    na-ga    wa- 

just  as  it  is  in  heaven.  give  us  this 

nis-ha-deh  nah-de-wa-nis-ha-ge  no-gwa-ah-gwah,  neh  kuh  neh 

day  daily  our  bread  and    also 

do-da-gwai-wah-sa-gwus    no-gwai-wa-neh-ak-shah    naeh    niih 

forgive  ns  our  sins  as  we 

he-de-jak-hi-wah-sa-gwah-seh    nok    hi-wa-neh-a-gih.      Sa-noh 

forgive  those  that  sin  against  us.  Do 

kuh  ne-huh-ha-swah-ah    ha-dyo-gwah-ni-go-da-goh;  neh  gwa 

n°t  lead  ns  to  where  we  shall  be  tempted;  but 

sho  da-gwa-yah-doh-nook  ha-yah-da-deh    Haah-ni-go-ate-gah. 

keep  us  away  from  the  Evil-minded. 

lis-sah-ahsa-wah  ne-dwa-noh-do-ohs-ah-gwen-ni-yuh,  neh  kuh 

Thou      art       the  owner    (of  the)  Kingdom  and  also 

ne  gah-has-des-hah,  neh  kuh  ne  de-ga-ah-sa-oh  ha-yu-i-wa-da- 

(of  the)     power,  and       also  (of  the)  glory  (to  all)    eternity. 

dyieh.     Do-gas  neh-huh  na-ya-wah. 

Truly  it  will  *be  done,  (or,  Amen.   So  be  it.) 


It) 


CHAPTER  XII. 

WHY    IXDIANS    AND    TOADS    ARE    FRIENDLY. 

One  time  a  tribe  of  Indians  started  out  from  the  site  of 
Geneseo  to  fight  their  enemies,  and  gather  scalps  and  glory. 
On  the  way  they  crossed  an  animal's  track,  and,  horrified,  they 
asked  their  chief  about  it.  He  knew  everything.  He  said, 
"  This  is  the  track  of  the  biggest  of  bears.  They  have  no  hair 
upon  them.  They  know  as  much  as  Indians,  and,  no  matter 
if  one  is  twenty  miles  away,  if  an  Indian  sees  his  track,  he  will 
know  it,  and  turn  back  as  fast  as  he  can  run.  He  can  eat  up 
a  whole  tribe  and  then  he  will  growl  for  more.  It  is  his  track 
we  have  just  crossed,  and  he  knows  it  and  is  now  on  his  way 
back.  Something  great  is  going  to  happen  to  us.  You  all 
camp  here,  and  I  will  take  the  swiftest  runner,  and  we  will  go 
to  meet  the  bear."  Having  hung  his  crest  of  feathers  on  a 
stub,  he  said,  "  If  that  falls  off'  you  may  know  that  we  are  dead." 
The  two  started,  and,  at  length  arriving  at  the  running-to 
gether-place  of  two  streams,  they  halted.  Soon  they  heard  a 
mighty  thundering,  as  when  Heno  has  cast  a  thunder-bolt. 
The  bear  was  coming;  it  was  his  growling  that  echoed  and  re 
echoed  up  and  down  the  streams.  The  sound  was  terrible.  It 
filled  all  the  space  between  the  mountains.  The  two  Indians 
concealed  themselves  behind  great  trees.  The  bear  rushed 
upon  them.  The  Indians  shot  arrows  at  the  bear,  but  he  paid 
no  heed,  for  nothing  could  penetrate  his  hide.  The  bear 
knew  somebody  was  about,  and  this  enraged  him.  He  tore 
up  the  ground;  he  pawed  the  rocks  that  he  might 
sharpen  his  claws.  He  bit  an  oak  to  put  his  teeth  in  order, 
and  the  splinters  flew  in  every  direction.  The  bear  spied  one 
of  the  Indians,  and  chased  him  round  the  tree.  For  hours  they 
ran  so  close  to  each  other,  that  the  bear  did  not  know  whether 
he  was  chasing  the  Indian  or  the  Indian,  him;  but  the  Indian 
knew.  The  Indian  dared  not  shoot,  for,  a  moment's  hesitation 


would  have  dropped  him  into  the  foaming,  wide-open  mouth 
of  the  panting  giant-of-a-bear.  Being  a  great  jumper,  the  In 
dian  sprang  suddenly  to  one  side,  clearing  one  of  the  streams, 
and  then  the  other.  The  bear  pursued  so  close  that  the  In 
dian  could  not  shoot.  The  second  Indian  now  ran  up,  and 
the  bear  fled  after  him,  but  the  bear,  being  very  large,  began 
to  get  tired,  and,  attempting  to  jump  the  stream,  he  stumbled 
and  fell  upon  his  great  knees,  folding '  his  paws  under  him. 
The  first  Indian  shot  an  arrow,  and  it  happened  to  stick  in  the 
soft  pad  of  the  bear's  foot.  This  was  a  mortal  wound,  because 
the  bear  carried  his  heart  in  his  paw.  The  bear  found  that  he 
must  die,  and  he  roared  louder  than  ever;  so  loud  that  the 
mountains  shook  and  trembled.  Then  all  was  still. 

When  the  Indians  saw  that  the  bear  was  dead,  they  hast 
ened  back  to  tell  the  people.  The  tribe  was  very  glad  of  the 
news,  and  went  on  to  see  the  monster.  They  covered  the 
body  with  dry  sticks,  and  fired  the  pile.  The  bear  was  re 
duced  to  ashes.  Then  the  chief  said,  "  His  ashes  are  very  poi 
sonous.  Take  up  a  little  of  them  and  whatever  you  ask  will 
be  granted.  If  one  should  say,  '  I  wish  to  be  a  great  hunter/ 
he  would  be;  or  a  great  runner,  or  jumper,  it  would  come  to 
him."  So  all  the  Indians  wished.  It  happened  that  the  chief 
had  wished  to  be  the  fleetest  of  all  runners.  Soon  they  neared 
the  village  of  the  tribe  they  had  come  to  fight  and  the 
chief  saw  that  the  villagers  were  dancing.  The  wigwams  were 
empty.  A  great  festival  was  being  given.  So  earnest  were  they 
in  their  festivities  that  they  did  not  notice  the  chief  of  their 
foes  as  he  glided  noiselessly  among  the  revelers  and  fell  to 
dancing  with  them.  As  he  mingled  in  the  dance,  he  stabbed 
one  and  another  with  his  seal  ping-knife,  throwing  into  the 
wound  some  of  the  ashes  of  the  bear,  and,  the  tribe  noticed  at 
length,  that  scores  were  dropping  to  the  earth,  and  the  people 
then,  for  the  first  time,  observed  their  enemy,  and  gave  him 
chase.  They  fought  his  own  tribe,  killing  all  but  him.  It 
was  not  rulable  to  kill  a  chief,  and  so  they  spared  him.  They 
held  a  council,  and  decided  that  they  ought  to  punish  him  a 
little.  They  heated  two  round  stones  and  compelled  the  chief 
to  stand  upon  them,  a  foot  on  each.  His  feet  were  blistered. 


'7fi 

They  cut  his  blistered  soles  and  filled  the  bagging  skin  with 
hot  coals.  "  Now,"  said  they,  "woman,  let  us  see  you  run.  We 
bring  our  swiftest  runner.  We  will  also  put  a  pole  where  you 
can  see  it,  and  this  shall  mark  the  end  of  the  running-course." 
When  both  runners  were  near  the  pole,  the  burnt-footed  man 
ran  right  on.  They  cried  out  to  him,  but  he  kept  going. 
All  the  runners,  goaded  by  the  disgraceful  defeat  of  their 
champion,  started  in  pursuit,  but  the  runner  distanced 
them.  •  When  last  they  saw  him  he  was  running. 

When  the  chief  was  beyond  the  reach  of  his  enemies,  he 
took  a  foot-path  in  the  wood,  and  followed  it  till  night,  then  he 
crawled  into  a  hollow  log  and  lay  down  in  pain.  Towards 
day-break  he  heard  a  voice  at  the  foot  of  the  log,  saying, 
"You  feel  very  bad?"  He  answered,  "  Yes,  I  do,"  "  I  know  it," 
said  the  strange  voice,  "and  I  have  come  to  see  if  I  can  help 
you."  "  All  right,"  said  the  Indian,  "  I  am  glad  of  that,  for  I 
am  very  bad."  The  creature  that  had  spoken  left  him  medi 
cine;  but  before  he  departed,  he  put  some  011  the  Indian's  feet 
and  cured  them  and  drove  away  all  pain,  and  then  he  said, 
"  Always  remember  me.  I  came  to  help  you  because  you  often 
help  my  people."  "  Who  are  you?"  asked  the  Indian.  The 
voice  replied,  "  I  a^m  he  whom  your  people  call  the  toad.  You 
have  often  heard  me  crying  in  distress  when  the  hungry 
snake  has  tried  to  swallow  me,  and  you  have  beaten  him  off 
and  now  for  this  reason  I  have  come  and  cured  you.  Great 
chief,  remember  me  and  my  family  when  you  get  home.  Do 
not  forget  ue.  Help  us  and  we  will  help  you.  Tell  your  peo 
ple  to  be  our  friends,  and  promise  that  you  will  be  kind  to  all 
the  family  of  toads."  He  faithfully  made  promise,  and  thus 
you  learn  why  the  toads  and  Indians  are  warmest  friends. 

These  vagaries  of  the  Senecas  we  have  learned  from  their 
own  lips,  and  have  presented  them  to  you  in  this  book  of  "  In 
dian  Life  and  Legends,"  as  for  as  possible,  in  their  own  words. 
O-yo-ga-weh  makes  no  apologies  but  hopes  the  reader  may  lay 
down  this  little  book  with  greater  charity  for  the  Indian,  and 
better  knowledge  of  his  ways.  - 

Na-ho. 


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